


Find the Sun in the Corners of Shadows

by victoriousscarf



Series: Can the City Forgive I Hear Its Sad Song [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Character Death, Dubious Morality, Multi, References to sex slavery, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 58
Words: 124,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Promise me you won't go if Jason asks you to come with him."</i>
</p><p>And Dick had promised, had never gone after Jason or left Gotham behind. Instead, it was Jason that went after him into the desert to save <i>him</i>. Except, once outside of the city it's almost impossible to find a way back, and Gotham is in flames behind them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lamentforboromir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentforboromir/gifts).



> Me: I will totally utterly not start another story until I finish one
> 
> Me, after being hit in the face with DC feels: Nevermind.
> 
> On the other hand I haven't really been writing the last couple months so like finally being inspired enough to do so is awesome enough I'm rolling with it. This story is really still being sorted out, so pairings, warnings, characters etc to be very much amended as time goes on. I'm not even sure this is what I want for it but we're rolling so let's go.
> 
> (lamentforborormir I blaaaaaame you)
> 
> This really is taking some PA pointers from Mad Max: Fury Road because that's just where my brain is. Also this quote from the credits: "Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland, in search of our better selves?"

 “You're not going to go after him are you?”

Dick did not turn from where he leaned against the crumbled remains of a wall, looking out over the city. The sun inched down the sky on the other side of the ruins, and where they stood once had been the third story of a five story building. It had long since become the roof. 

“You ask me that every time, Tim,” he said, still not turning. “You think that would be answer enough.”

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, looking even smaller then usual in the long shadows of twilight. “And every time you look more and more desperate.” There was a hard set to his mouth, as if this really was the last thing he wanted to talk about. 

“I'm not going to follow him,” Dick muttered, and tried to ignore the snort that came from Damian's direction. “Now, or later.”

“So you wish we would stop pestering you, is that it?” Damian asked, and Dick still was not turning, his eyes trained past the setting sun now, to the hinterlands beyond. He had long since lost sight of Jason, after another fight, but he could imagine how far he would have gotten. “Well, that's too bad, Grayson. Because Drake and I here would die if you left, so you gotta understand our concern.”

Dick finally turned enough to stare at Damian. “Isn't that a little dramatic for you?” Somewhere still behind him and to the side of Damian, Tim had stiffened, arms still crossed and he was as still as a living human being could be.

Shrugging, Damian met Dick's eyes with narrowed ones of his own. “Oh sure, melodramatic. You're still underestimating yourself, you know. Or rather the fucking pyre Bruce would make of this city the instant you went missing.”

“He,” Dick started.

“No, we would die if you left,” Damian said. “Drake likes to dance around the issue, pretend he's not worried--”

“Hey,” Tim protested.

“--Whatever Drake. Fact is, Bruce would lose his mind if he lost you and yeah, okay, man's never dealt well with grief--”

“That's your father, you're talking about,” Tim said under his breath and Damian pushed through like he had not heard.

“--And you saw him when we all thought Jason had died. But you, you are not only his favorite, but his fucking light of reason or something. Don't interrupt, Grayson, you know it's true way down where you don't look very often. You leave, Bruce loses his mind, city goes up in flames, and the only back up plan Drake and I have is fleeing for the fucking wasteland and trying to survive. Only, you know that we wouldn't make it very far.”

“You'd make it,” Dick said because Damian stopped long enough to take a breath.

“Like hell we would, no offense Drake.”

“Not much of one taken,” Tim muttered. “He's not wrong, though, Dick. You know--”

“I already said I'm not leaving, why are we still talking about this?” Dick asked, looking down and checking his belt, fiddling with the transmitter in his ear.

“Because I think Damian's right,” Tim said quietly. “We've,” and he darted a look to Damian and away. “Talked about it before, what we might do if you disappeared, if the city was lost.”

“Every time Todd shows up, you become compromised,” Damian said. “Causes problems with the blood pressure, you know?” 

Tim and Dick both stared at him before Tim's eyes darted back to Dick, holding his gaze. “Jason's asked you before, don't think we've forgotten. And,” he forestalled Dick when he opened his mouth to protest again. “You said no. But you look sometimes like you want to change your mind. Like you want to chase him down and convince him to come back with you, except while you would be doing that who knows what would be happening behind you.” Tim shrugged. “Damian's right we'd probably die. So don't think about what could be, about getting him back. Promise us, promise me you aren't gonna get up one day and run after him.”

Dick stared at Tim for a long moment, until Damian finally cleared his throat at being ignored by them for such a long time.

“I won't,” Dick said. “You can stop worrying about it.”

“Oh yeah, that'll happen,” Damian scoffed.

“I am _not_ going to run after Jason,” Dick said. “Okay? I promise.”

Damian snorted, but Tim nodded like he believed Dick, like he wanted to believe him.

“No matter what he says or acts like?” Damian asked.

“He hasn't been acting very endearing lately,” Dick snapped, as his ear piece beeped. Once, it would have allowed words to come across from the other line, but now there were only clicks, Morse Code tapping out coordinates in the city. “Bruce wants us. Are we done?”

“Just don't forget,” Damian said, already scrambling up over the wall and dropping down to the shaky fire escape below. “You promised.”

Dick and Tim glanced at each other. “We do need you,” Tim said and Dick only nodded, because they had that conversation many times, when Dick and Bruce fought, in the dark of nights were there was not enough power for any lights, when Tim curled up against Dick's side and tucked his chin into Dick's collarbone. “We need you,” he had said countless times, when Dick doubted and the world looked empty and bleak in front of them.

“I know,” Dick said, following Damian's path with a graceful roll rather then continue the conversation.

-0-

“I hear Jason was back in town,” Bruce said, dropping the word casually the next morning, after Dick staggered into his office, fresh new bruises on his face and his arms.

“Are you surprised?” Dick asked, rolling his shoulders and trying to get the cricks out of his spine. “While you were dealing with the Joker last night, we found Harvey trying to hold another rally down by the old docks. Saying what he usually says, that you have more water, more food you aren't sharing, getting people riled up.”

“Harvey always says that,” Bruce said.

“And people still believe him, which is our problem,” Dick said, still stretching. He dragged his arms up above his head and straightened his spine.

“And of course he attacked you when you went to break it up,” Bruce said, and Dick shrugged.

“Well, sure, and you know how people are about us.”  
  
Bruce's eyes narrowed. “So was it not Harvey that got your last night then?” 

“Eh,” Dick shrugged. “People are desperate, Bruce, you know that. It's partly why you've trained us like you have. They want to get at you through us, and so yeah, there was a hassle in the street.” 

Bruce did not move for a moment. “What did Jason want?”

Dick rolled his eyes back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, quietly counting back. “He was looking for supplies and news. Dropped off some meat, I didn't ask him what kind, made noise about your whole social experiment doomed to fail and left. Where the hell does he still find animals to hunt? I mean, I would think the land around Gotham would be stripped for miles.”

“You do not think,” Bruce started.

“Yeah, no, he hasn't resorted to cannibalism yet,” Dick said harshly before Bruce could complete his question.

“After all this time, animals would be coming back to the area,” Bruce said.

“I just can't imagine why they're staying,” Dick said, sitting down backward on the only other chair in the room and crossing his arms over the back.  
  
“Desperation,” Bruce said. 

Dick drummed his fingers along the back of the chair, watching Bruce. “You've been running this piece of land for quite a few years now,” he said, and Bruce turned back to him, waiting to hear where he was going. “Do you think it's made a difference?”

Bruce blinked once, folding his hands in his lap and turning around to face Dick completely. “Are you having doubts?” 

“No,” Dick shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “No, I just, it seems so... unending sometimes.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “It is at that.” He paused, and as much as Dick was fidgeting, Bruce was still. “Yes,” he said finally. “It is worth it because it has to be. You were young, when my father died, you probably don't remember. But you must remember the years that followed, the wildness and abuse.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dick said, voice completely flat. Bruce winced and then continued. 

“The powerful ran this city, and everyone else was fodder for them and their needs.”

“Yes, I just said I remember,” Dick said, looking away.

“Then why are you asking if this is worth it?” Bruce asked, his voice soft and low.

“Because despite everything you have tried to do,” Dick said. “People resist, people fight you inside and out.”

“I am trying to bring order to a world of the mad,” Bruce said quietly. He stopped, considering Dick again. “Do you not think it's worth it?”

“I do,” Dick said, rising again. “I'm just tired.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, looking down and there was a slope to his shoulders Dick did not remember. “I am too.”

Dick watched him silently before moving over, brushing his fingers through Bruce's hair lightly and drawing back when Bruce's eyes snapped up. “You ever wonder if you would have been this obsessed with helping people if the world hadn't gone mad?”

“Yes,” Bruce said and the corner of his mouth twitched up. “I'm not so sure it would be so different. I'm a very stubborn man after all." 

“Yeah,” Dick sighed, retreating back to a respectful distance. “I'm fairly convinced too. Still, might have been nice, to live in another time.”

“You mean one were perhaps we were not starving and destroyed?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah,” Dick said, his own face breaking out into a smile. “Maybe were there were more cities, not constantly at war over scant resources with each other, and perhaps people could have survived outside of them,” he said, glad to see Bruce's buried sense of humor for however brief a moment. "Can you imagine a world where most of the buildings have  _roofs_?"

“Where Gotham still was connected to the ocean and we still had access to the technology of old?”

“I hear phones were amazing,” Dick said and Bruce's smile turned into a snort that was never quite a laugh.

“And perhaps a world were Jason had never left us?” Bruce added, the almost laugh disappearing as quickly as it had come. 

Dick froze for too long of a moment. “What is it with everyone and Jason lately?” he asked.

Bruce at least had the decency not to answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like i telegraphed where this chapter was going to go way too obviously. I meant to have more time between the really big hint about the plot and the actual event and decided eh might as well get this show on the road (Quite literally)

The only indication that Dick had company was the slight swish of fabric as Damian crawled on the pallet beside him. “You should have been asleep a long time ago,” he mumbled, arm shoved under the wrapped up wad of fabric he used as a pillow, not turning around.

“You should know as well as anyone, Grayson, none of us get to sleep when we should,” Damian muttered, and he did not cuddle against Dick's back. But he did lay there, his knees pressed against the small of Dick's back and his hands folded against his own chest. Neither of them would ever say out loud that even that point of contact was so that Damian could always feel Dick breathing. Instead, Dick made sure to take deeper, steady breathes.

He almost feel asleep like that. “You know,” he said instead. “With Jason. I would never actually follow him out of the city, even on a crusade to convince him to come back.”

“It annoys you when he leaves,” Damian said.

“Yeah,” Dick agreed quietly. “I would like him to stay, except...”

“Neither he nor father seem fond of the idea,” Damian said.

“No,” Dick agreed quietly. “Even when he did ask me to go with him instead of staying here with Bruce—I mean—he only asked me the one time. But I don't think he even meant it.” Dick pressed his face against the rags, not quite turning enough to bury his nose. Jason hadn't meant it and that only made the memory of the offer that much worse.

Damian's knees pressed harder for a moment against his back. “If he had, would you have gone then?”

“No,” Dick admitted. “My loyalty is to Bruce, to this family, to you. To this city.”

“Todd is part of our family,” Damian said and then huffed. “So everyone keeps insisting, anyway.”

“But he's not Bruce,” Dick murmured, though it made his chest ache to think of the way Jason had kicked him when he was down, flat on his back on the concrete and gasping for breath. He had smirked, held out his hand, and asked Dick to come with him, to leave crumbling Gotham and self-obsessed Bruce and his crusade behind. They had spent enough of their lives living for him already, and his outdated ideals. Hadn't they?

Dick had groaned, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Some days, so many days later, he still couldn't decide if it was a kindness that Jason was gone when he opened his eyes again.

“He's not Gotham,” Dick said to the darkness in front of him, listening to Damian's breathing behind him. There was a rustle of fabric and Damian shifted enough that he could put on hand in Dick's hair.

“Do you really believe in what father does anymore?” Damian asked, and it was a conversation they had circled around many times.

“I want to,” Dick said quietly. “We've survived this long on his ideals, anyway.”

“It would be faster to kill those who oppose us,” Damian said. “To actually rule this city—”

“Then we would be no different from any of the other cities still standing,” Dick said. “Where resources are hoarded by the rich for themselves, and ruled only through power.”

“There is a reason that is the case,” Damian said. “Perhaps being different is not a good thing. We have enough enemies inside our walls, enough who wish to reclaim power or rule or run wild in the streets and kill and take what they want. We do not need to convince other cities to come after us too.”

“Maybe it's worth sacrifices to create a better future,” Dick said blandly.

“A better future,” Damian fumed. “A better future—we will never change the world, Dick. It is too vast and large and untamable. We are only going to destroy ourselves.”

Dick's spine straightened, as he let Damian's use of his first name pass without comment. “You and Tim,” he said, instead. “You had talked about your alternative plan. To get out of the city if I died or went missing.”

“Yes,” Damian said through gritted teeth and Dick could not tell if that was from the change of subject or his bringing Tim and Damian getting along enough to plan into the conversation.

“Which way were you planning on going?” Dick asked, eyes starting to string from staring into the complete blackness in front of him.

“What does that matter, Grayson?” Damian asked.

“It probably doesn't,” Dick said. “I'm just curious. West, there's still some trees, other cities, and more danger from other roving vagrants. But there's game there too, more shelter. East is the desert, where there's not much shelter, but no cities and less people.”

“Those that exist out there,” Damian murmured. “Are more vicious by far.”

“That's where your mother raised you,” Dick breathed, quiet because he hated to say what Damian was already all too aware of.

“We would go West,” Damian said, after three measured breaths.

Dick nodded, shifting and collapsing back, pressing more firmly into Damian's knees. “More danger from man, less from nature.”

“Man and nature are always dangerous,” Damian said. “It is simply the ratio of which is more.”

“Sometimes I look at the desert,” Dick said quietly when Damian had stilled. “And I wonder what it looked like as an ocean, what all that water would be like. What it would be like to sail, to swim, just to see it." There was a longing for something he had never seen in his voice.

“The ocean's dangerous too,” Damian said and Dick laughed, a sound quickly swallowed by the darkness.

-0-

Dick had never lied to anyone about how much he loved Gotham. As much as sometimes he looked at the desert to the East and imagined an ocean, while he danced from crumbling old facade in Gotham to the next shaky roof, he liked to imagine the buildings as they might once have looked. Stories high of glistening glass and steel, catching the setting sun.

Now, the buildings were falling apart, missing floors, glass had become a precious commodity, and everything was covered in dust.

But still he loved the city, loved the weight of it and how he flew over it.

He had woken to muggy grey light filtering down the staircase and into his sparse room, and no Damian against his back. Tim and Bruce had already been out as well, and now the sun inched down across the sky. Gotham had been quiet most of the day, and he had spent it outside, making sure the streets remained orderly and as safe for the people who lived there as he could make it. He had also been dragged into a meeting of concerned citizens and had been petitioned constantly by the desperate to bring their plight directly to Bruce. He thought he might have seen Helena earlier but she was gone before he turned back around. 

His chest ached as he swung from building to building,

Landing lightly, he stopped to look around, checking his ear piece to make sure it was silent because there were no messages coming through, not because it was broken. After making sure it was physically okay, he tapped the check code to Bruce, and was obediently sent a series of taps back.

He prepared to take off for the next roof when a sound caught his attention. Turning, he walked across the creaking concrete to peer down at the alley below, seeing someone running the other direction. Dick took a moment too long squinting at the silhouette, trying to place why it looked so familiar. He heard the sound behind him a second too late, only turning enough that the crowbar hit the side of his ribs instead of his spine.

“So good to see you tonight!” the Joker crackled at him. Rolling, Dick tried to get his feet back under him as the man with scars around his mouth followed him. “I've been following you a while, you know, you're not very predictable.”

“You, meanwhile,” Dick said, ducking another blow and kicking at the Joker's kneecap. Hissing, the Joker did not go down, swinging instead at Dick's head.

Throwing himself to the side, Dick finally got out from being between the wall and the man in front of him, gaining the room to stand, only to realize they were still not alone on the roof. “I am not predictable!” the Joker protested and Dick stared at Victor Zsasz and Victor Fries a second too long, the Joker coming up behind him.

Rolling again, he flipped backward, landing on the crumbling wall, missing Zsasz's knife almost by accident. “Quite the party you have going here,” he said, flippant and calculating how firm his footing had to be before he could get across to the next roof.

“Only the best for one of your family,” Fries said, holding his strangely crafted ice weapon, something like an ice thrower, and aiming it at Dick's legs. Jumping to the next patch of wall, Dick landed badly, rolling back onto the roof and they had backed him against the side of the building with no clear exit.

“Really, I'm flattered,” he said. “But I need to--”

“Leaving so soon?” and Dick turned in time to see Pamela Isley drive a piece of pipe into his ribs, causing him to gasp and stagger back, right into one of Zsasz's knives.

“I said be careful!” the Joker yelled and through the pain Dick dropped and dived at Pamela's knees, knocking her over and flipping them around. He could feel the blood seep through the back of his shirt, but the knife had hit his shoulder blade and not gone deeper. Kicking Pamela in the face, he hopped back up to the wall, fumbling the flare gun out of his belt, sending the red bolt into the air as the Joker dived at him again. He managed to get his escrima sticks out of his belt in time to block the Joker's next blow and he threw himself sideways, trying to work himself around to another side of the building.

Except he skidded on a patch of ice from Fries' self-invented weapon, going down hard, head knocking against the floor. He scrambled up and away from the ice, the Joker running solidly into him and knocking him back down.

“Now, now,” he said, and Dick thought he could see the flare wink out above them over the Joker's shoulder. “You should know better.”

Dick slammed his palms into the Joker's chin, and got punched in the mouth for his effort. “Stay still,” the Joker said, Dick feebly trying to kick up at him, his shoulder sliding against the ice. “I said,” the Joker growled, and he brought the crowbar down again. “Stay down.”

-0-

Dick woke up to surprise he woke up at all.

The ground underneath him seemed to shake and he ached, bruises old and new and when he rolled his shoulder he could feel bandages. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking right at the face of the Joker.

“You were out longer then expected,” he said, head tilted to one side and Dick froze.

“Why haven't we just killed him?” Zsasz said, crouched on the other side and Dick's eyes flickered over and back.

“The point is to drive the city cukoo,” the Joker said, swirling his finger through the air. “By getting at one of Bruce's boys.”

“Which we have now," Zsasz pointed out, and he idly twirled one of his knives in his hands. Dick tried not to let himself focus on it. 

“Yes,” the Joker said, Dick's eyes darting around the confined space. “But. What better to take away one of his boys and at the right moment bring them back?”

“Giving him the mutilated body is the same thing,” Fries remarked.

“No it's not,” the Joker said, almost a whine. “None of you get it, which is why it was my idea, and I'm the one running this little show.” He turned back, Dick warily meeting his eyes. “Do you hear that, little bird? You might survive this. At least for a while,” and he broke off laughing.

“What a charming little plan,” Dick drawled, and the Joker leaned forward, no longer laughing and eyes narrowed. “You're pegging a lot on a single man's affection.”

“And you're bluffing,” the Joker tilted back, giggling again. “Everyone knows you're his favorite.”

“I'm not,” Dick started and the Joker darted forward, grabbing his chin and dragging him forward, Dick biting back his gasp of pain.

“Just because I want you alive does not mean I won't cut out your tongue,” he said, and Dick froze again. “Now, I'm going to send you out with some nice men and watch Gotham burn to the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Joker having scars ala Nolan makes more sense in this sort of universe then make up. Also he specifically chooses to go by an alias when everyone else in this verse more or less does not. Ugh, I promise Jason is appearing in this story at some point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic needed an infusion of batgirls STAT
> 
> Your [song for the whole fic.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCzA-tz6gAI)

“He's not here,” Tim said, standing on the roof, an old, heavy metal flashlight in his hands. There was blood floating in a puddle and Tim squinted at the edge of the roof, trying to tell if its condition was worse then it had been a few days ago.

“This is where his flare went up,” Damian said. “Right after checking in.”

“But,” Tim looked around, trying to trace every inch of the roof top. “Now he's gone.”

“He would have checked in again,” Damian said.

Tim stopped, taking a deep breath of stale air before gritting out, “There's no body.”

“Doesn't mean they didn't move it,” Damian said, and when Tim turned the flashlight on him, he hissed and jerked his head away from the light.

“Do we run?” Tim asked after a beat.

“We find information first,” Damian said, already getting a running start on jumping to the next roof. Tim stood for another moment, staring at the blood on the water before stashing the flashlight and following.

-0-

“There's no body,” Tim said, arms crossed and watching Bruce, his eyes flickering to Damian from time to time. Cassandra crouched behind Bruce, head tilted down so her black hair partially shadowed her face. “But there's been no sightings of him all night and into this morning either.”

“What do we know?” Bruce asked, holding himself perfectly still. His stood behind his old desk. Rumor and history said it was made of a single piece of wood. Whatever it was, it had survived the end of the world and was a marker of authority that came from the time before.

“There was a truck leaving the city on the East,” Damian said. “It could be unrelated, it didn't stop at any checkpoint and...” he trailed off. It was a tenuous lead at best. “That's all we have.”

“Has anyone,” Bruce started and the door pushed open, Stephanie on the other side, her eyes darting to Tim's face before focusing on Bruce.

“The Joker wants to speak with you,” she said, voice tight. “He's just outside the door.”

Bruce, if possible, tensed more, his mass a knot of poised muscles. “Let him in,” he said, Damian's hand on the knives that neither Bruce nor Dick had ever convinced him to leave behind, Tim taking a step back against the wall. Steph nodded, walking back out the door. When Tim turned his head, Cassandra had disappeared already, up in the rafters of what once was the town hall.

The Joker breezed into the room, a bundle in his arms. “Bruce!” he chirped and Bruce looked down at him, face tight.

“What can I do for you today?” Bruce asked, tone deceptively mild. 

“Ah, so official,” the Joker said, waving one hand and flicking his head. “It makes me sad, you know, when you treat me like this. As if I'm just another annoyance to your day instead of what I actually am to you.”

“That didn't answer the question,” Bruce said.

“No, I suppose it didn't,” the Joker said, looking at the ceiling and sighing. Even though his eyes were roving all over the room, Tim was fairly certain he did not see Cassandra. The Joker paused again, and Bruce's fingers were turning white from where he had clenched his hands into fists. “Well, I suppose there's no help for it, if you're surrounded by your boys and insisting on being stubborn.” Standing behind him, next to the door, Steph's face tightened. “Oh wait!” the Joker held his bundle in one hand, the other raised in the air as he snapped his fingers. “You're missing one of your boys, aren't you? Or is that technically two of them now?”

“We are all aware of the facts, Joker,” Bruce said. “What do you need, I am a busy man.” Each word was measured and filled with rage.

“You're never too busy for me,” the Joker said, and his smile pulled the scars around his mouth. “But alright, to business we'll get.” He spread the bundle on Bruce's desk, in front of him, black hair spilling out of the rough fabric. “About that boy.”

Tim's eyes snapped over the hair, and it _looked_ like Dick's, the right shade of black and the right length to have been shorn off his head. He stopped breathing for too long of a moment.

“This is proof of nothing,” Bruce ground out, but one of his hands had moved, almost without his permission, to touch a lock of the hair.

“What more proof do you need that something is wrong then the fact he's not here? I am simply staking my claim, if you will, on claiming responsibility.”

Bruce's hand shot out, almost too fast for his bulk to grab the Joker's neck and yank him halfway across the desk. “Bruce!” Tim said, taking a step forward because it looked like Bruce was about to strangle him, but Damian put himself smoothly between Tim and Bruce. Snarling quietly at Damian's back, Tim missed the start of the Joker's laugh.

“Oh, is that would make you break your own pact to yourself?” he gasped, Bruce's hand not tight enough on his throat to cut off all air yet. “You'd kill me for taking your favorite, but not the other one?”

“Where is he?” Bruce snarled, and Steph took a step forward before returning to her post at the door.

“You think I would just hand you my trump card like that?” the Joker laughed, and patted Bruce's chest. “No, no, Brucie! You know me better then that.”

“If he's dead, what does it matter?” Damian asked. “Just _kill him_ and be done with it.”

Tim stared open mouthed at Damian, and he almost tackled the younger boy just to make him shut up. Because for a second it looked like Bruce would snap the thin neck held in his hands. “If you killed him,” Bruce said slowly. “You would have brought me the body, or his head.”

“Or,” the Joker said, tapping one long finger on Bruce's noise. “I just want you to have that glimmer of hope that he's still alive, only to crush you all over again when I do bring out his head. Oh, his head, wouldn't that just be a glorious touch? No need to keep the whole decomposing body around, just the head. I can bring it out on a stake later.”

Steph made a choking sound by the door, but Tim did not dare turn his head to make sure she was okay.

“You could be lying,” Bruce said, his voice measured but his fingers kept flexing and the Joker pushed into the touch like a cat, grinning still. Bruce jerked back slightly, almost dropping him before he regained his composure and loosened his grip slightly. “You could not be showing me the body because you're keeping him alive for some reason.”

“Yes,” the Joker agreed. “ _That's_ the hope I want to see in you.” His grin widened again. “And you still won't kill me, will you? Because your code of honor in the mad house is the only thing holding you together.” He curled his fingers around Bruce's chin and leaned forward again, Bruce forcibly holding himself still. “I'll figure it out someday, what makes you _snap_. I'll bring your wild fantasies down to our level here, where everyone else is, without some outdated notion of a monster.” He laughed, leaning back and Bruce finally let go of his throat, rubbing a hand across his chin.

The Joker jumped back, still laughing, and gestured to the hair again, which had scattered like leaves all over Bruce's desk. “Someday,” the Joker said, pointing his finger around the room and still laughing. “You are going to learn we're all monsters here.”

“Get out,” Bruce said, fingers clenched on the ancient wood and for a second it looked like he might snap it.

The Joker threw his hands out, bowing dramatically before practically dancing for the door, Steph jumping as he passed within inches of her, but she did not move from her post.

“Information,” Bruce said, as Cassandra dropped back into view, looking from Bruce to Tim, a question in her eyes. “Find it.”

“We will,” Tim said and paused before grabbing Damian's bicep and pulling him with him. Damian allowed it, and they were both silent as they walked outside of Bruce's office and into the faint sunlight. Once outside, Damian started to pull his arm back and Tim turned down an alley, throwing Damian against the wall and pressing up.

“Drake,” Damian hissed.

“What the fuck was that?” Tim said, not quite a shout as he pinned Damian's hands to the wall.

“Why are you still surprised?” Damian demanded. “You all know exactly what I—where I was raised, what I believe in. Just because I'm not running off after Jason doesn't mean he doesn't have the right of it either. That man touched Dick, he _took him away_ and you're all standing there, letting him waltz in and out. I swear, if I find him I will kill him.”

“We don't kill people!” Tim yelled, too desperate and his fingers were shaking against Damian's arms.

“Maybe that's your fucking mistake!” Damian shouted back.

“If you kill him we'll never know either way,” Tim said, trying to get his voice back under control but it was trembling as much as his hands.

“He's already dead,” Damian said and his eyes were blank.

“We don't know that yet,” Tim said, barely managing to form the words.

“His body is probably being picked clean by the birds already,” Damian said, his voice hollow. “The Joker, you know how he is, it probably took a while and—”

“Shut up!” Tim yelled, slamming Damian back into the wall again and Damian let out his breath all at once. “Just shut up,” Tim said, desperate.

Damian finally focused his eyes back on Tim's face. “Do we run?” he asked, repeating Tim's earlier question.

Tim took a steadying breath, and in a moment of weakness he leaned his head against Damian's shoulder. Damian twitched and then allowed the touch, looking away. Tim drew back letting go of Damian's arms as he did. “We find everything we can about that truck first,” he said, voice firm again and his jaw set.

“And when it gets desperate?” Damian asked, still not looking at him.

“Then we run,” Tim said.

-0-

“Well, I've figured out we're in a moving vehicle,” Dick said, his hands tied behind him and he was pressed into a corner of the swaying room.

“How astute of you,” Pamela said, leaning against the opposite wall, cleaning her gun.

“To be fair, I do have a head wound,” Dick said, and he could barely keep said head up. It kept trying to sag forward, and he would straighten with a gasp of pain again. His fingers had been working at the hard metal cuffs around his wrists, but so far he had not figured a way out of them. Rope, he could untie if given enough time, no matter how complex the knots. Bruce had tied him to a chair when he was younger, and refused to let him off no matter how much he pleaded he was hungry. One time he had almost passed out there of exhaustion. But he got the knot undone in time.

He could not remember ever seeing metal cuffs like this.

The corners of Pamela's mouth ticked up but she remained quiet.

Dick allowed that for a moment, before he could not stand the silence anymore. He ached and that made him only need to talk more. “Where are we going anyway? If I'm supposed to be a pawn in a game with Bruce, taking me away doesn't seem like a good idea.”

“Like I would be stupid enough to tell you,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, we don't have to go far to get you out of his sight.”

“But you'd have to guard me,” Dick said. “Could be a long haul.”

“Could be,” she said, looking back down at her gun.

“How's Harley doing with that?” Dick asked, forcing his voice to be bright and Pamela froze, still looking down. “Think she'll miss you, or will she be too distracted by Mister J?”

Pamela's eyes rose, full of poison and Dick forced himself not to stop grinning.

“Do not speak of things you know nothing about,” she said, voice cold.

“You think I don't know anything about that?” Dick asked and she raised the gun, pointing it at him. “That's not much of a threat,” he said, past his dry throat.

“That means it is still a bit of one,” she said. “You already took a beating. I will gladly shoot your leg and say you were trying to escape or do any other number of stupid things. Now be silent.”

Gritting his teeth, Dick turned his head into his shoulder, pressing down and physically trying to force himself to be quiet. He wanted to whimper, he wanted to scream, he wanted to convince Pamela to just knock him out again.

Instead he started counting his breaths and focused on keeping them steady in the sway of the vehicle.

-0-

“We are leaning nothing, Drake,” Damian said, stopping at the end of an alley, jumping backward when a pit fire went up in front of them, figures standing in a circle and screaming around it. “On top of all the other things we are being useless at.”

“There's a few more—” Tim started, Damian already opening his mouth to protest when they were interrupted by a voice directly above them.

“Did you notice the riots in your city?” Jason asked, perched on the railing of a fire escape. It was unstable and ready to detach from the building at any moment. “Again, anyway. You think you people would be more on top of that, with all your bitching about order and the greater good. I've been looking for you everywhere, by the way.”

“Jason,” Tim breathed, and Jason stopped, hearing the relief and shock in Tim's voice.

“What happened?” he asked, dropping down from the fire escape to land in front of them.

“Dick,” Tim managed and Jason was moving the last few paces between them.

“What do you mean, Dick?” Jason asked. “Usually he's not that hard to find, where is he?”

“So you do go looking for him on purpose,” Damian said and Jason ignored him. “He's missing.” That got Jason's attention, his eyes moving over to Damian.

“Missing?” Jason repeated.

“Since last night,” Tim said. “He checked in, sent up a flare, and has been silent since. The Joker came to take credit, but only had black hair as proof of anything, he said to make Bruce—us—think that maybe he could still be alive, to let that hope drive us insane.” Saying all the facts made him feel better for a moment until he remembered what they were. “We haven't been able to find any trace of him in the city, and there's only one unreported truck heading East—”

Jason was already moving again, picking up the bag he had dropped. “Wait, Todd, you have no idea if he was in that truck or not!” Damian said. “The Joker is toying with us, he's probably dead—”

“Probably,” Jason agreed. “Doesn't mean that he is.”

“The truck is a wild lead, and it has a head start on you of almost a day now,” Tim said. “If you go East you'll probably never find them in all that desert, he won't be there, if he's alive he's probably in the city—”

“You're the one who just said that truck was your best lead,” Jason said.

“I never _said_ that,” Tim said.

“You bringing it up might as well be you circling it and underlining it as the most obvious,” Jason said. “You brought it up above any others. You stay here, run damage control, and I'll go after him.”

“Are you fucking joking?” Damian said, taking several fast steps forward. “You think for a second we would trust you—”

“You think you and Tim would do well in the wilderness?” Jason asked. “It's not like Gotham out there.”

Damian bared his teeth. “I know, you idiotic ingrate.”

“Oh right, you might,” Jason said, snapping his fingers. “But imagine dragging Tim out there with you. Besides, you can't move as fast as me and you know it.”

“There is no way I would trust you with the possibility of Grayson's safety singularly by yourself!” Damian said.

“Too bad,” Jason said, leaning into his space and pushing him back with a hand on his chest. “Bruce needs you here.”

“Don't you dare talk to us about father!”

“You think I'm wrong, Tim?” Jason asked, looking over at Tim, who opened and closed his mouth.

“If he is in that truck,” he said finally, slowly. “You might be the best chance of getting him back. But one man alone against whoever the Joker has sent—”

“Who's missing?” Jason asked.

“Isley, Cobblepot, Zsasz, Sionis, Elliot, Fries, those are the ones we haven't seen since, which may be meaningless,” Tim rattled off without having to think about it. “They could be anywhere, involved in any thing.”

“Could be,” Jason said, already walking away again.

“You're really just going?” Tim asked. “Alone?”

“I should come with you,” Damian said, and Tim shot him a half panicked look he did not see behind his back.

“Hell no,” Jason snapped. “I won't have anyone else slowing me down. Besides, you're going to be needed here.”

“The city could burn to the ground before you have a chance of finding him,” Damian said.

“Well I hope you all have a plan b then, because I'm going,” Jason said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “Or do you want me to lose more time?”

Damian's face twisted and Tim came to stand abreast with him. “Please,” Tim said quietly. “If he is out there, find him. And bring him back.”

“Yeah, Tim, I will,” Jason said, meeting his eyes for a moment.

“I don't trust Todd,” Damian said, looking at Tim sideways as Jason disappeared.

“He's right,” Tim said quietly. “He's got the best chance, out there. I know you were raised there but. It's not quite the same anymore.”

“He seemed awfully quick on deciding to go after Grayson,” Damian said and Tim closed his eyes as the alley lit up with the strange light of a new fire.


	4. Chapter 4

On the third day—as far as Dick could tell from the amount of light coming through the cracks in the wall and his inability to drop into any sort of deep sleep—they turned around.

At least he thought they turned around.

“Are we going back to Gotham?” he rasped and Zsasz kicked him in the stomach. Hanging his head, he bit the inside of his lip, splitting it back open and tasting the blood. His lips and the inside of his mouth was raw and scabbed from the number of times he had tried to use pain to distract himself from speaking. His fingers, still behind his back were covered in blood from working the cuffs and even that slippery he had no luck yet.

But the direction of the truck had changed. When Pamela came back from her shift driving and Zsasz went to sleep in the front next to Fries, Dick lifted his head, watching her bring the water and hard tack over.

She moved warily, because the day before he had tried to use his legs to bring her down and knock her out. In return, his had his head slammed against the wall and she had driven her knife into his bicep, making him scream in pain because there was no reason not to.

“Going back then?” he asked, offering her a grin that was barely a shadow of what it had formerly been.

Her eyes narrowed before she shrugged. “Astute of you. Gotham should be smoldering nicely by the time we bring you back, though I'm not entirely certain what the Joker plans on doing with you.” She leaned closer, shoving his head back and pouring the water down, making him almost choke. Pulling back, she dropped his chin and waited for him to finish coughing. “See, he'll probably just throw you at Bruce's feet and kill you then. If I had my way, I think it would be more interesting to try and turn you.”

“Turn me,” Dick repeated, another cough shaking his frame.

“You know,” she shrugged. “Break you before giving you back. Torture you maybe, convince you he never really cared about you. Maybe have you kill someone so your hands are stained in blood. It would not be terribly hard to make you that desperate, I think.”

“I think you are underestimating how much I care,” Dick said, not looking up and she grabbed his chin again, about to force more water down when the whole truck shook, as if they had ridden over a mine. Pamela looked at him before deciding she needed to see what was going on more then watch him, leaving for the front.

Dick stared at the abandoned water and hard tack as the truck shook from another attack. “Alright,” he said after a moment, leaning his weight back on his hand and turning his head to gather up the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder with his teeth. Using his weight and the pressure of the wall, he dislodged the thumb of his hand, screaming into his shoulder as another attack helped to cover up the sound. For a moment he lay there, gasping before slipping his hand through one of the cuffs, sliding the other one still with the cuff out from behind him.

The truck shuddered, skidding sideways and with a yelp Dick went sliding across the floor just as the whole truck overbalanced on to one side.

-0-

Jason pulled his bike around the corner to see a truck—he hoped to whatever would listen it was the right truck—upended on its side, several figures in cloaks and masks swirling around it on motorcycles a lot like his own. He recognized Pamela hiding behind the cab and using a long sniper riffle to pick off their attackers. Zsasz was throwing knives, and Fries used his frost thrower to try and turn the sand in front of the bikes slippery.

There was a fire in the back, and Jason roared through the attackers and around to the back, picking the first one to notice him off with the handgun strapped to his thigh. “I would hate for them to think I was helping them,” he muttered, sliding the bike against the back of the truck and throwing his shoulder into prying the door open. “Please let me lucky, just this once,” he said under his breath as the door gave way, opening up the spacious back of what might have been once a military transport.

He heard coughing before he saw the figure sprawled against the corner of the wall and floor, one hand cradled against his chest. “Holy fuck, I got lucky,” he said, Dick weakly pushing himself up and looking at him.

Jason was moving, pulling Dick forward and up even before Dick had a chance to react. “Jason?” he asked, voice tiny. “ _Jason_?”

“Funny you're surprised,” Jason said, going for light and noticing how much blood was covering Dick, the way his hair had been shorn unevenly off his head.

“How,” Dick started to ask and then his eyes went over Jason's shoulder. “Look—” he began to warn, Jason turning and shooting as the cloaked figure threw a grenade at them. Jason's shot caught the other through the head, and the grenade went sailing over their heads, exploding against the door to the front cab.

Jason dragged Dick back down, hearing his painful wail. “Come on,” Jason said, scrambling back up and pulling Dick with him. “Can you hold on to me?”

“What, I am,” Dick said weakly, looking queasy as they passed the body.

“I mean on my bike,” Jason said.

“You came to rescue me by yourself on a _motorcycle_?”

“Now's the time to critique me?” Jason asked, kicking the bike up and helping Dick back down onto the seat. Out in the sunlight, the blood was more obvious, and Dick's hand looked wrong. “Can you stay on the back or not?”

“Not seeing a lot of choice,” Dick returned, his voice dry and raspy and he scooted back so Jason could sling his leg over the seat. There was a cry toward the front and Jason kicked the bike into gear, roaring it to life as Dick wrapped his arms around Jason's chest, and after a moment brought his legs up to wrap around his waist too.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason demanded.

“My legs are doing better then my arms,” Dick snapped back, burying his face in Jason's back. “This is taking all my strength as it is just _go_.”

“Right,” Jason said and hit the gas as hard as he could on the sand, roaring away from the fires on the truck. “Good to see you, by the way.”

He could feel the huff of Dick's breath even though he could not hear it. But now was not the time to focus on that. Several of the attackers peeled off the truck, following them. Looking over his shoulder, Jason saw Fries go down with flash of red between the eyes. “Well, they're kind enough to take care of some of our problems for us,” he said, unsure Dick could hear him over the wind. He turned, yelling. “Don't pass out on me!”

“I'm trying not to,” Dick said, and he turned to follow Jason's gaze. “Can you lose them?”

Jason only grinned, pulling a couple grenades from his belt. “No!” Dick got out a mere second before Jason threw the first one, hitting the wheel of the leading bike and sending the whole thing up in flames.

“Can't lose them,” Jason yelled, Dick reaching his arm for the other grenade and jerking it back with a cry of pain when he stretched the knife wound on his bicep. Jason used his momentary distraction to throw the other grenade, a bullet lodging in the back of his bike, and another zooming past the shatter the corner of the windshield.

Still with his foot down on the gas, Jason made sure the path ahead of them was clear before turning around again to make sure no one else was following them. He saw smoke rising from the truck but no one else actually blazing after them. He turned a corner around what used to be a reef of some kind, standing pockmarked and defiant against the sun above, and kept going, trying to put as much space between them and the truck as possible.;

“I'll stop,” he called. “In a while, make sure they're not following us, and check you out. Can you keep holding on that long?”

“You'll know when I can't,” Dick panted, burying his head against Jason's shoulder again and clinging.

Jason considered opening his mouth before he closed it, figuring they would talk when he stopped. Instead, he pushed the bike a bit faster, turning around another old coral head and following the compass on his front dash.

-0-

Almost an hour later, he felt Dick's hands start to loosen around his waist, his back arching as he started to slide away. “Dick!” he yelled and Dick jerked back up against him. “Hold on, let me find a place.”

“I am holding on,” Dick said and Jason tried not to grin as he spotted another coral head, taking the bike around to the shadowy side of it and finally stopping. Almost as soon as they were still, Dick groaned, dropping his legs first before Jason rose and turned around.

“Man, Grayson, you look like shit.”

Dick managed a faint laugh, sagging against the seat of the bike before he flopped forward along it. “Come on, at least lay down,” Jason said, tugging and pulling him until Dick got enough strength under him to help Jason get him down on the sand.

“You came for me,” he said, almost slurring. He couldn't keep his head up. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, stripping Dick's shirt off and checking his chest. Seeing the bandages already there, he pulled Dick forward to take a look at his back. “What's this?”

“Knife wound, three days,” Dick said, eyes shutting. “The other one's also a knife wound but that's from yesterday.”

“This arm is shot,” Jason muttered, reaching back to his bike, hauling the pack he kept on the back off and down, fumbling through it for bandages.

“I hadn't noticed,” Dick said and Jason wished he had enough water to start cleaning the blood off.

Instead he ran his fingers down Dick's arm, making sure there were no more wounds being covered by the blood already there, stopping at his hand. “And this?”

“Getting out of these,” Dick said, lifting his other hand weakly and Jason could see the cuffs dangling from his wrist.

“You did this to yourself?” Jason asked and Dick shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. Instead he tried to focus on scanning the horizon but everything hurt and for the first time in three days he was laying still and not on a swaying vehicle. He wanted to cling to Jason because he was there, because he had come for him, and did not dare, even in his dazed state. “I forget sometimes what a tough insane bastard you are,” Jason muttered. “I think I can get this reset.”

“Fuck,” Dick said, preemptively before he nodded.

“Here,” Jason said, handing him the leather bracelet he wore. “Don't want anyone we don't know hearing us.” Dick nodded, biting down on the bracelet and Jason shifted Dick's hand until he could get a good grip on it. “Ready?” When Dick just stared at him, Jason gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry,” he said, and braced himself to snap the finger back in to place. When Dick's shout turned into panting, Jason took the bracelet back.

“That why you keep that?” Dick asked, looking as Jason slid it back on.

“Yeah,” Jason said, and Dick sagged down, his head on Jason's knee. “Why did you do to your hands?” Jason asked, still holding it. It was mostly rhetorical considering Dick had already answered. 

“I already said, I was trying to get out,” Dick said quietly, already half passed out.

“Shit, Grayson,” Jason said. “We shouldn't stay, just in case,” but Dick was already gone, and Jason sighed. After a moment of staring at Dick's unconscious face, Jason's mouth ticked up into half a smile.

“That was some rescue if I do say so myself.”

His fingers reached out, almost hesitant, to touch the top of Dick's head, moving through the short strands of his shorn hair, barely touching. “What luck,” he murmured. “That they turned around.”

-0-

When Dick woke up, it was dark and for a moment he lay perfectly still, adjusting to being on solid ground. He could see light from somewhere through the slit of his eyes but the sky was dark. He started flexing his hands and gasped in pain but also noticed there were bandages around his fingers and running along his palms. 

“Ah, disoriented?” a voice asked to his side and Dick gave up pretending to sleep because that sounded like _Jason_... His eyes snapped open and he tilted his head back, blinking to see Jason sitting and watching him over the lantern he had jammed into the side of his bike.

“Oh,” Dick breathed. “You did come for me.”

“We went over that already,” Jason said with a faint frown.

“Yeah,” Dick said quietly. “We did, but, it felt like a dream.”

“Not really dream material here,” Jason said, shaking his head and putting down the gun he had been cleaning. That looked more familiar after the last few days then Dick felt comfortable with.

“I was desperate enough,” he said instead of any of the other words crowding in his throat.

“Go back to sleep,” Jason said after a beat, handing him a water canteen. “Well, drink this and then go back to sleep. We can't drive at night, the light would be too obvious. We'll wait until morning and head back for Gotham.”

“Will you stay this time?” Dick asked, taking the water and cradling it against his chest for a moment before pushing himself up on his good elbow and starting to sip it.

“Fuck of a question to ask,” Jason muttered. “I just saved your life. Stay focused on that for now, alright? Instead of asking questions like that.”

“Bruce misses you,” Dick said, sinking back down against the sand and Jason tensed. “I think Tim does too.”

“Bruce's opinion stopped mattering to me a long time ago,” Jason said.

“I miss you,” Dick said, already starting to fall asleep again and he reached a hand out, anchoring it on Jason's knee and he could feel Jason tense before he spread his legs out in front of him, Dick wiggling around to use Jason's thigh as a pillow, his hand still on Jason's knee.

“What makes you think your opinion means any more to me?” Jason asked softly above him after a minute and Dick was fairly certain Jason had not meant him to hear that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but no one thinks it's gonna be this easy right?
> 
> (I will so not be able to keep up with this updating schedule so might as well enjoy it while it lasts)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night I ended up drinking too much wine and not writing. I had a dream about these assholes so I think that's a sign to keep writing. 
> 
> Also now with [a playlist on 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/victoriousscarf/in-search-of-our-better-selves)

Dick woke up to gunfire. He snapped up a bullet whizzing past his head and without looking, Jason shoved him back behind where he was crouching behind the bike.

“Who is it?” Dick asked, voice slurring because it always took him a moment too long to wake up. Bruce had tried, time after time, to teach him how to snap awake and move and he could usually get his body to start going before his brain did.

“Don't know, doesn't matter,” Jason said, peeking over the seat of his bike and it was the hour of dawn, where light was starting to seep across the land while the sky was still mostly a dark smudge.

“Can you see them?” Dick asked, pressed against Jason's back while he too raised his head enough to look.

“No,” Jason said, tensing. “What are you doing, stay down.”

“Over there,” Dick said, nudging Jason's chin to look in the right direction. “Three o'clock, up that ledge.”

Jason let out a sigh when he finally saw them, tensing and then relaxing his shoulders again. “Fucker,” he seethed. “They must have a fuck of a rifle, there's no way I can get them from here.”

“Assuming whoever they are, they're alone,” Dick said, breath on Jason's cheek.

“Right,” Jason said, eyes sliding over before refocusing as another shot rang out, and they both ducked down. “Suggestions?”

“Move the bike around, get on and run?” Dick offered.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Jason said as they both pressed against the bike, keeping it between them and the shooter as much as possible, wheeling it around the outcropping of rock. Once they were on the other side of the outcropping, Jason helped Dick get on the back before jumping on himself.

The bike roared to life and Dick wrapped his aching arms around Jason's waist, not daring to bring his legs up again. “What about the light?”

“It's light enough to see,” Jason said and for several minutes it looked like they might have gotten away from the sniper. Except there was the roar of another engine behind them, and when Dick looked back he saw a flare go up in the darkness of the sky. An answering one was in front of them and Jason swore, swerving to go sideways, away from both flares.

“They must be confident they can get us to reveal the trap,” Dick said and Jason was still swearing as he tried to give the bike more speed. “Do you have any idea where you're going?” Dick asked, face almost smashed to Jason's cheek so the other could hear him.

“No,” Jason yelled back, swerving as another bullet went whizzing past them, hitting the sand off to the side of the bike's path as they went by. Bracing himself, Dick turned to see a car following them, a woman with a sniper riffle standing in the back.

“They've got two or more people in that car,” Dick said, not even trying to reach for Jason's hands as he went for the grenades.

“Do you think you can drive?” Jason asked.

“Not sure how we'd do that while still moving!” Dick yelled. “And,” he flexed his arms. “I don't know.” He could hear Jason swearing again as they circled around another outcropping of old ocean floor rock, another bullet going past. The car in pursuit went around the corner as another old jeep came in from the right, joining the first.

“It's just two cars,” Jason said, daring to look back over his shoulder.

“And we're alone on a bike!” Dick yelled. “Their odds look good.”

Jason barred his teeth. “This would be easier if you would just agree to lob the grenades and bullets for me.”

Dick dug his fingers into Jason's stomach before he realized what he was doing. “No.”

Still swearing Jason served the bike around again and the sky above them was not getting any lighter. “Jason,” Dick said, tugging on his arm.

“Are there more cars behind us?”

“No, but,” and Dick could not take his eyes from the sky. There was more wind kicking up around them then simply the passage of the bike accounted for. “Jason!” Dick yelled when they turned another corner and sand was swirling up into the air, not quite a wall in front of them but frantically building one.

For a stunned moment they coasted closer to the storm, another bullet hitting the back of the bike and bouncing off. “Hold on tighter!” Jason yelled, revving the bike forward.

“Are you fucking insane?” Dick screamed directly into Jason's ear.

“Do you really want an answer to that question?” Jason asked as the wind and sand hit them right in the face and Dick ducked his head down against Jason's back and brought his legs up around his waist again, afraid he would be blown off.

-0-

Tim leaned back against the town hall wall, hoping his sprawl looked casually alert, instead of exhausted. He and Damian and Steph had been running backwards and forwards over Gotham, trying to put out fires and unrest, while looking for Dick all the while. Even Bruce and Cassandra had come out each night, a risk Bruce had not so blatantly taken in quite some time.

But Dick was still missing and Jason had not come back.

Tim was unsure if that was a reassuring thought yet or not. He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky and wondering what it would be like to communicate over long distances with people across the world, in times of desperation or peace.

But now the sky was clouded and murky and the Joker had been standing in the town square since that morning. So far he had not done much, sat on a pile of rubble and played cat's cradle with a piece of string, but a large crowd had already gathered. One time, crowds like this had gathered outside the old town hall every morning, because under the war lords one never knew if the morning would bring executions and random outbursts of violence from inside the building, or presents of extra food and supplies. In the fifteen years since Bruce had wrestled power of the city out of the warlord's hands and into his own, that practice had stopped.

But still, people gathered when they sensed a storm brewing and by afternoon an exhausted crowd swayed, waiting.

Because less then an hour after the Joker appeared, Bruce had stepped out and stood in the doorway of the town hall. They had not spoken to each other yet, the Joker paying more attention to his string then Bruce and Bruce standing in rigid silence.

Tim tapped out a message to Steph, asking her if she or Barbara had found anything yet. Instead of getting Morse Code back, Steph dropped down beside him, circles under her eyes and shoulders slumped. “We haven't found anything,” she said. “Are you so certain—”

“Dick has to be alive,” Tim hissed back. “Otherwise the Joker wouldn't be sitting here waiting to put on a show like this. I told you, we have to find how they're moving him here, because once he gets in this square our chances of getting to him before the Joker goes way down.”

“I know,” she said, irritated. “I'm doing what I can, and Damian is circling the square looking for movement. Barbara is getting all her contacts in on this, we will,” and she stopped at the tapping that came after Damian's identification code of three short dashes. Instantly, she jumped up and scaled the wall, running along the roof to where he was, Tim circling the square and keeping his eyes on the Joker as he got closer to the entrance were the bike was roaring into the town square.

Damian's next message said Dick wasn't on it, nor a body bag.

The Joker looked up though, clearly having found what he was waiting for but frowning when a motorcycle entered the square.

The bike stopped in front of him, Pamela pulling off the hood of the cloak she had stolen off one of the attackers and meeting the Joker's eyes.

“This was not how you were supposed to arrive,” the Joker said after a beat, eyes narrowing and Pamela met his gaze evenly.

“No,” she agreed.

“Did you at least bring me a head?” the Joker demanded and Tim was clenching his hands tight enough he could feel his blunt fingernails starting to cut through the skin. Hope felt like it was choking him and he dared a look over to Bruce.

Bruce's eyes were bright but he did not move. The crowd swayed and looked at each other, wondering if this was going it be it.

“No,” Pamela said and Tim's lungs wanted to collapse. “We were attacked and things got out of hand.”

The Joker froze, his face twisting for a moment. “Is he at least _dead_?”

“I don't know,” Pamela said, still sitting astride the bike and Tim fumbled blindly along the wall to be closer to Bruce, who stood perfectly still.

“Are we done here then, Joker?” Bruce called out and the Joker's eyes whipped over to him, face twisted up and Tim had never seen him actually look simply angry before.

“I suppose,” the Joker said, wiping that expression off his face and putting a fake mournful one on. “That there will be no show today.” He smiled at Bruce, like they were the only people standing in the square. “But don't worry, Brucie. I'll have one for you soon.”

“I'm sure you will,” Bruce said, voice carefully measured, and Tim almost had their shoulders pressed together when Bruce turned, sweeping back into the darkness of the town hall.

“He might still be alive,” Tim said, the door closed behind them, Cassandra dropping from the rafters. Bruce did not allow himself to smile, but his shoulders sagged as they walked to his office, Damian and Steph dropping in through the high window.

“Yes,” Bruce finally allowed, at the heart of his sanctuary. “He might still be alive.”

“The Joker expected to have him delivered,” Damian said. “And they lost him.”

“Do you think Jason?” Tim started and Bruce's shoulders snapped back up and he turned on him.

“What do you mean, Jason?”

Tim tensed, having not told Bruce about their conversation. “When Dick disappeared,” he started slowly, Damian taking half a step to stand closer to Tim then Bruce. “Jason came back that night. I told him about the unknown truck leaving East, and he went after them. With Pamela's arrival it's possible to say more firmly that truck might have been them.”

“Find out what you can about her return,” Bruce said to Damian and turned back to Tim. “And you did not tell me?”

“It's Jason,” Tim said. “He would do anything to get Dick back, no matter what all our differences are.”

There was something shadowed in Bruce's eyes, but he nodded. “Find me that information,” he said, voice perfectly level and Tim followed Damian out of the room.

“Was he like this when Todd disappeared?” he asked under his breath as they crawled up to the roof and took off that way instead of showing themselves in the square again.

“No,” Tim said. “He was more wild, more willing to lash out.”

“I swear, I thought Grayson going would have driven him insane,” Damian muttered.

“Two reasons,” Tim said, holding his fingers up as they came to a stop two roofs over, looking for where Pamela and the Joker went. “Dick didn't leave of his own choice. Dick abandoning Bruce, even for Jason? That failure and loss? Bruce wouldn't burn the city down but he might stop caring about the fires.” He crouched down on the wall. “And two, Dicks' not dead.”

“But he's still not here,” Damian said.

-0-

The storm was still raging outside the cave Dick and Jason found. They had stowed the bike in the front to block some of the wind and sand and taken all of Jason's bags back into the cave with them, hiding as far back as the shallow space would allow.

Jason had passed out after shoving protein bars into his face and when he finally woke up, Dick had curled up into a tight ball and gone to sleep as well. When he woke up, the sand was still going and Jason was going through his bags, sorting and resorting what supplies they had.

“How long do storms like this last?” Dick asked, when he finally knew he could speak without sounding groggy and hoarse.

“Few days, few hours,” Jason shrugged. “It depends.”

“What are we gonna do in the meantime?” Dick asked.

“Hope they went past us in the storm, or backed out and ran as fast as they could,” he said. “If they went to ground nearby we did, we'll only have to keep running when it lets up.”

“That's not,” Dick started, pushing himself up on his arms.

“I don't feel like talking,” Jason cut him off and Dick pressed his lips into a thin line as Jason looked up, outside their shelter. “The wind's starting to let up.”

“Jason,” Dick started again and he rose abruptly. “Look,” Dick snapped. “You're the one who came after me, you're the one who went through all this trouble, and you won't even talk to me?”

“What could we have to say to each other?” Jason asked.

“Everything?” Dick said, pushing himself around and folding his knees underneath him. He would not be so pathetic as to reach out, even though his fingers ached. “Where you've been, why you wouldn't come home, why—”

“You already know why I won't come back!” Jason said and pressed his mouth into a thin line when he realized how loud he had been. “It's not so simple, Dickie. You can't fix things with magic words.”

“We could at least,” Dick started and Jason cut him off with a swipe of his hand through the air.

“No, we can't. I don't want to. I came after you because it's better then leaving you for dead like you did me.” Dick opened his mouth and Jason cut him off again. “No. Don't.” He took a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Look. I came after you. All I want to do is get you back to Gotham, and leave again. Okay? Stop making this more then it is.”

“So you just came to be a carrier boy for Bruce,” Dick said, too hurt to think about stopping his mouth.

“Tim's desperate eyes, actually,” Jason said. “I like him more then the lot of the rest of you. Even if he was my replacement.”

“Jason—”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason said, and the wind was getting quieter. “Come on, we can maneuver in this. Let's,” and he stopped, leaning over the top of his bike.

“What is it?” Dick asked, clenching his hands.

“The compass is broken,” Jason said.


	6. Chapter 6

“You can navigate without it, right?” Dick asked after a stunned moment, Jason narrowing his eyes at him.

“No, I can't really navigate without it! I know the sun rises in the East and if the sky would clear up enough that we could even _see_ the sun, that would be a start! But if I can't see even that, then no, I have no other means of navigation.”

“But the stars,” Dick started.

“Do you know how to navigate by the stars?”

“No,” Dick said. “But then again I'm not supposed to be the expert and surviving in the wild."

“Expert,” Jason said after a moment, looking annoyed and flattered in the same moment. “So good to know someone at least thinks well of me in _something_ ,” and he barreled past Dick opening his mouth again to say something else. “But I'm able to survive because of my tools, not innate skill.”

Dick's jaw worked and he finally looked away for a long moment. “Okay,” he said finally. “So what do we do then?”

Jason turned, kicking the wall for something to do. “We can stay here until our supplies run out, or someone more wild comes to kill us for the metal we have.”

Dick made a sound at the back of his throat, shaking his head. “Way to paint the most unappealing picture. Let's go. Pick a direction and just go.”

“And if it's the wrong direction?” Jason asked.

“Better that then wasting time sitting,” Dick said and he was already fidgety, his bandaged hands moving and Jason stared at him before nodding, the barest dip of his chin.

-0-

At first, Dick tried to keep his eyes open, and to peer through the murky air. Jason needed to focus on driving, so he tried to be the look out. Only within hours his eyes and head ached and he gave up, pressing his cheek into Jason's shoulder blades and just breathing. The sand and salt in the air made his lungs hurt but he ignored that, focusing on the steady repetition of his lungs filling and emptying.

“You're letting your hair get red again,” he said, half in a trance and they were moving slowly through the dimness of the fading storm, and so the roar of the bike might not give them away at too great of a distance.

In front of him, Jason tensed and Dick snapped out of whatever peaceful place he had been in. “So?” Jason asked and Dick's fingers tightened on his stomach before he forced them to go flat again. “I should have a long time ago.”

“It's not a condemnation,” Dick said softly and he turned his head slightly, seeing the dull red out of the corner of his eyes and refusing to let himself touch. “I'd just forgotten what it looks like.”

“Well, the point of being one of Bruce's boys is we all look the fucking same,” Jason said, anger seeping into his voice. “I mean, you were a fucking perfect find, all blue eyes and black hair and you don't have his muscle mass naturally but you might as well be his son. Once he'd gotten and trained you there was a pattern, that Bruce's boys were all dark haired and blue eyed. Represent him by looking like him.”

Dick kept his mouth shut, sucking on what he wanted to deny because he knew it was true.

“And then Tim was another godsend to him, and Damian is his actual blood so you know. Not a lot of effort to up keep their images.”

“It's not because you have red hair,” Dick said suddenly. “The reason you don't fit in with us.”

“Oh right, it's because of my personality,” and Dick hated not being able to see Jason's face, even though he could feel very clench of muscle and shift Jason made. “I forgot about that part of it.”

“Jason,” Dick said, pressing his cheek against his back again. “No. Fuck. Damian might as well _be_ you some days. That's not why either.”

“Then what the fuck is it, Dick?” Jason snarled.

“Your own choice,” Dick said and he gripped Jason harder, like he wanted to keep him there and anchored to him. “You chose to leave. Bruce—we—wanted you back and you just _left_ again.”

Jason brought the bike to a skidding stop, Dick holding on tighter to keep from sliding off the bike.

“Left?” Jason demanded, stepping off the bike and Dick braced his hands on the seat, looking up at Jason, wondering when exactly he had gotten taller then him. Even if he was standing instead of sitting, Jason would be able to look down at him with that fury and hurt in his eyes. “Oh yeah, I left. That's what happened. I was kidnapped and left for dead by everyone—”

“We didn't leave you for dead!” Dick said, hands clenching and releasing on the seat. “We—I—looked for you everywhere, for weeks, for months—”

“Just shut up,” Jason said, starting to turn away.

“No,” Dick snapped. “I'm not going to shut up just so you can remain stewing in your own victimization.”

“What a big word, Dick,” Jason said and for a second Dick wasn't sure if that was supposed to be his name or simply an insult considering the way Jason spat it.

“We did look for you,” Dick said, forcing his voice to be level and calm, a not bad imitation of Bruce. Especially when Bruce was about to fall apart. Jason folded his arms over his chest, watching him warily but appearing resigned to listening to him. “But you had been missing for days, and when we finally caught up to the trail, the whole fucking building we thought you were in exploded.”

“There was never a body,” Jason said.

“There wasn't much of anything,” Dick hissed, trying not to yell again.

“So you didn't go any further—”

“Can I tell you to shut up this time?” Dick demanded. “You weren't there,” and he rose now, jamming his finger against Jason's chest, and Jason took a step back. “You didn't see—It was me and Bruce and Alfred and we were trying to hold ourselves together and the whole fucking city. Do you know why Tim is one of us?”

“Because you needed to replace me,” Jason snarled, old hurt flaring in his eyes and Dick shoved him with both hands, ignoring the sting through the bandages.

“You—no. Because he came to _us_ , because we were that stupidly obvious, because we were falling apart. Bruce chose _us_ , you and me, but Tim chose Bruce. Because what thinking you were dead did to him.”

Jason stared, jaw set. “You never came after me, you never bothered to find out—” and he had never seen that feral snarl on Dick's face before.

“No,” Dick said. “But don't you dare assume it was because I didn't want to. But I was the only one left, we couldn't both disappeared, couldn't both leave Bruce—” and his voice broke, and he bowed his head, hands still pressed against Jason's chest but his fingers curled, crumpling the fabric of Jason's shirt between them. “Bruce needed me. I could have searched for you and come back victorious with both of us, and we could have still been together. I thought about it, when I stood looking through the wreckage of where we thought you had been. I thought about running and not stopping 'til I found something. Instead I took a look at Bruce's face and decided to stay, to keep the living together even when I wanted to fall apart. It was a horrible choice, Jason, stop blaming me for making it.”

“I will always blame you,” Jason said after a beat and Dick screwed his eyes shut, dropping his hands. “We need to keep moving,” Jason added, turning away and swinging himself back onto his bike.

Dick stared at his back a moment. “If that's the case,” he said softly. “Why did you come?”

“Because I'm not going to turn into Bruce,” Jason said, not turning back around and Dick stood, just staring at the hard line of his shoulders, wanting to tell him how much he looked like Bruce in that moment. Instead he sighed and climbed back on to the bike.

“I looked for you,” he said, head bowed and hands on Jason's waist. “As much as I could.”

“Wasn't enough,” Jason said, kicking the bike back into gear.

“No,” Dick agreed and thought the engine drowned him out.

-0-

They found another shallow alcove to sleep in that night, their backs against the ragged stone. Before, Dick had been so exhausted he had dropped off to sleep the instant he tried, but now he lay curled up on his side, clutching his arms around his chest and trying not to think about how Jason stared at him, or how cold it was getting.

“Those supplies don't happen to have blankets, do they?” Dick asked, after he almost dropped asleep and woke up with a shiver.

Jason stared at him before he shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it over Dick. “I want it back when it's my turn to go to sleep and you take watch.”

Dick blinked his blue eyes up at him, fingers curling around the edge of the jacket's collar. “Okay,” he settled for finally, curling up as tightly as he could underneath it.

The next day was much of the same, driving through a world that was murky and dim, winds kicking up briefly only to die down again. When they stopped because the sky had gotten so dark they could not see without the light, Dick remained perched on the bike seat while Jason went through his supplies.

“How much longer will we survive?” Dick asked.

“Almost out of water,” Jason said, not looking at him, and Dick obliged him by looking away too.

-0-

“The sky looks clear,” Dick said the next morning, when Jason came awake all at once. He tried not to be jealous. “That way is West,” he added, pointing the opposite direction of where they had come.

“Fuck,” Jason said, with barely any strength and Dick turned around, sitting on the seat of the bike again, his legs folded as he looked over the vast plains in front of them.

“Odd to think this used to be all under water,” he said, thought the dips and valleys and odd structures jutting up from the landscape at least attested to the weathered nature of what had once been the ocean floor.

“Yeah, well, wouldn't water be nice,” Jason said and Dick suddenly shot his hand out, grabbing Jason's wrist and pulling him forward.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the distance, where there was a column of sand, being kicked up by what looked like a whole convey of vehicles.

“Holy shit,” Jason said, diving down and riffling through his bag to find his binoculars, bracing his elbows on the bike seat and messing with the zoom until he could get a good luck at them. “They have Metropolis' logo on them.”

“And they're heading East,” Dick said. “Toward Atlantis?”

“Or beyond, but that's a far reach, even for Metropolis,” Jason said, still fiddling with the zoom. “Atlantis is really the only major city out here. Unless they're going to try and negotiate with any of the wild leagues out here.”

“Not Luthor's style,” Dick said. “Nor would those leagues accept such a large convey coming to them as a show of force. They'd just bomb the cars from afar and go deeper into the desert.”

“Damian tell you that?” Jason asked, not looking up and Dick's mouth twisted.

“They don't like shows of force,” he said instead, but definitively enough that he must have heard it from Damian.

“They're the only people we've seen in days,” Jason said. “And they'll probably try and kill us too.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, drumming his fingers against his crossed legs and he turned his head. “We follow them,” he said finally and Jason looked up at him from where he was braced on the seat. “Look, we're already above them. This cliff looks like it goes a way. Where ever they're going, we'll run into some place to get supplies and figure out how to get back to Gotham.”

Jason stared at him. “Are you joking?”

“Not at all,” Dick said, unfolding himself from the bike and holding a hand out to help Jason back to his feet. “We follow them.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a monster. I got less then five hours of sleep the night before last, didn't sleep last night either, and spent all day at a con. And still both nights I update because it just won't stop going. 
> 
> A monster. You can play the Lady Gaga song and know how I feel about writing this story.

“Damian,” Tim said, watching the younger crouch on the wall along the roof, his head cocked to one side.

“What can I do for you, Drake?” Damian asked, palms of his hands resting against the old concrete and not turning, even though Tim was fairly certain he had landed quietly.

“We hadn't heard from you in a few hours,” Tim said.

“It's childish, to expect us to constantly check in,” Damian said, still not turning.

“It's common sense considering,” Tim said, an edge to his voice. “Even if it would have been useless with Dick, we know the Joker is gunning for us now—especially us. Maybe Steph too but I don't know if he's ever even see Cass so she should be okay—”

Now Damian finally did turn his head slightly. “Father was not the one who ordered in hourly checks.”

Tim tensed, before he shrugged. “No,” he agreed. “You know what he's been like the last few days—”

“Yes,” Damian said, with a roll of his shoulders as he finally turned around, standing on the half wall around the roof. “Retreating into himself, obsessively questioning every idea and order he's made, and starting to pull away from all of us because his greatest fear has always been his own emotions, the weakness of caring.”

“Which you solved just by not caring about anyone,” Tim snapped, because hearing Bruce's issues laid out so bluntly made him quake and strike out.

Damian stared at him. “Right,” he said, tone flat. “I don't take orders from you, Drake.”

Tim took a step forward, and Damian was already an inch or two taller then him, and standing on the wall it was only more pronounced by Tim did not care. “Bruce isn't willing to give them right now.”

“You aren't his replacement,” Damian said.

“We are probably the two in the most danger right now,” Tim said, voice steady and spine straight. “From the Joker, from his gangs, from those who think we are weak now. We're Bruce's public face which has always put us in the most danger but now without Dick—”

“I don't know about you, Drake, but I've survived without him before.”

Tim snorted, trying not to laugh in Damian's face. “You—sure you have. Which is what you were saying a couple days ago and everything, which is why you were acting like a lost puppy and came to me months ago, asking what we would do if we lost him. Because you don't care. You're _just_ like Bruce, you know? So scared of caring you try and shut everyone out.”

“If I take your claim that I care about Grayson at face value, I am unsure who else I care about that I am shutting out,” Damian said, enunciating each word carefully.

“I,” Tim floundered. “I didn't say you cared about anyone else. But you're pretending you're not hurting by this weird power play—”

“It is not weird, Drake, I simply do not take orders from you.”

Tim clenched his hands and released them. “We need to work together.”

“No, we do not,” Damian said and he turned back around, lightly leaping down and Tim ran at the edge of the roof.

“Damian, get back here!”

For a moment Damian stopped, tilting his head up in the afternoon light to look at Tim before he took his eyes away again, hopping down to the ground and taking off down an alley.

-0-

“We can't just waltz into some strange town,” Jason said, staring at Dick flabbergasted, Dick crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why not?”

“Why,” Jason started and cut himself off with a snarl because it was too forceful. “You want us to follow that convoy?”

“Yes,” Dick said, eyes narrowing. “I already said that and it wasn't really a negotiation.”

“Oh, now you sound like Bruce,” Jason said, forcing himself to be flippant and if he had not been intently looking, he _might_ have missed Dick's full body cringe. “Ordering me around despite me being really fucking sure I have the better idea here.”

“Which is what? To die in the desert?” Dick asked. “You said yourself we'll die without water, sooner rather then later. What's your brilliant idea for fixing that?”

“I'm not saying I have one,” Jason said, and he could still see the convoy making its way across the stand in the distance. The sky had been covered by clouds again but the air remained clear. “But you cannot go into another city.”

“This is about me?” Dick asked after a beat, eyebrows going up and all Jason could focus on in that moment, because he did not want to look at Dick's body language, was how his hair had been shorn off sloppily, thicker tufts of black stubbornly clinging on.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he shrugged. “Yeah, it's about you. You're Bruce Wayne's, he's not popular out here. He took the warlord's territory in Gotham and has been an irritant to them since. Grabbing his fucking favorite would be a feather in anyone's cap.”

Dick scowled, and his fingers came up to trace along where his hair used to be. “I'm not sure I'm all that recognizable,” he said. “I mean, I fit the basic description, but you have red hair now, and it would be less obvious then two black haired men walking into a town together out of the desert. Besides, I doubt every city out here even knows all our descriptions.”

“Oh, they know the descriptions,” Jason said, another reason he had given up on dying his hair, a habit he had stupidly kept long after leaving Bruce simply because the motions made him feel better.

Dick's jaw worked. “Do they have pictures?” he asked. “I'm sure even the Joker wouldn't go through the trouble of finding a working camera and sending it out, by courier, to literally every other town that hates Bruce.”

“You're banking on that,” Jason accused. “Besides, that's not even all of it.”

“There's something else?” Dick asked, looking between annoyed and surprised. “What other reason do you have for being so stubborn you'd let us die of dehydration?”

Jason almost barred his teeth at Dick before getting that urge under control. “Are you kidding? Look, I know you've spent your whole life in Gotham, and I know Bruce came to power and grabbed you when you were still a kid, but do you have any idea how long it would take before a slaver would take a look at you and pick you up?”

“What?” Dick asked, brows drawing together.

“Sex slaver, Dick,” Jason ground out. “In fact, even with how young you were, I'm surprised Bruce didn't have to knock down someone's door to get to you.”

Dick jaw dropped and he stared at Jason, and he felt a sick thrill at shocking him so severely. “That's not,” and he shut his jaw rather then keep floundering. Jason watched him take a few steadying breaths and he wanted to push again, just to see Dick looked that floored again.

“You're fucking gorgeous Dick,” Jason said, more softly then he had planned. “You know it, don't act surprised.”

“So are you!” Dick said and Jason had to swallow past the lump in his throat, through the pain that flared up in his chest. “For that matter, so is Tim, Damian, hell, Bruce! If you're so worried about me why weren't you ever picked up? I know Gotham isn't the same as these other places but—”

“Dick, don't be dense,” Jason said, clearing his throat and looking away. “You're a class beyond all of us and you know it, so just shut up.”

He could practically hear Dick grit his teeth together. “So,” he said finally, and Jason could hear how steady Dick was forcing his breathing to be. It was a habit they all had, after Bruce was done with them. “Your arguments against us following that convoy stand as this: I might be recognized as one of Bruce Wayne's, and that I'm too pretty.”

“We don't know where they're going,” Jason added.

“Eventually they'll go somewhere,” Dick said. “They have to be heading for something and eventually we'll be able to find our own way again.”

“Then yes,” Jason said, already regretting his agreement. “Those are the reasons I'm against following them in the hopes they take us to Atlantis or back to Metropolis.”

“It is almost impossible to believe anyone would recognize me, or us,” Dick said. “As for the second part,” he paused and Jason finally looked back over at him. Dick's fingers were unable to stay still, and Jason was distracted by their movement for a moment.

“What about it?” Jason prompted finally, trying not to stare at Dick.

“You're worried about me being picked up by sex slavers?” Dick said, as if he had to confirm it again.

“Yes,” Jason ground out.

Dick took a breath, let it out, and met Jason's eyes. “So pretend I belong to you.”

Jason's eyes widened and he felt like Dick had punched him. Before he could get air back into his lungs, before he could think through the white out in his brain, Dick was moving to straddle the bike again, looking over his shoulder at Jason.

For a moment all Jason could do was stare blankly back at him, and Dick only got more and more tense under his gaze. “Wouldn't that solve the problem?” Dick asked. “You're tough, coming out from the wilds. Who would fight you over your claim?”

“A lot of people,” Jason said, automatic. “But, not most. If they think you're already branded and owned a lot of slavers won't get into it again—” and Dick winced at the mention of branded. “But,” Jason tried, desperate. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, bracing his hands on the handlebars and staring back at Jason.

“Because,” Jason started.

“It's just an act, isn't it?” Dick asked. “To keep us safe long enough to get what we need and back to Gotham?”

“Yes,” Jason said and Dick cut him off before he could continue again. He felt like there was a roaring in his ears and he was responding to Dick on automatic.

“Unless it would be too strange for a man from the wilds to have a pleasure slave?” and Dick said the last words slowly, as if they were distasteful and he wanted to hide from them.

“It's not unheard of,” Jason admitted, unsure why he was encouraging this at all. “I could say I wanted company and have been training you. It might explain the way you move, along with your beauty.”

“See?” Dick said as if that closed the argument.

Jason wanted to hide his head in his hands and scream. “You cannot seriously be considering this?”

“I'd like to keep living,” Dick said. “You're the one who said I can't just waltz into a town. So that's our plan. I mean, if we need it. Might as well try it without it,” he added, quieter, and sounding so lost Jason wanted to ask him what was going through his head.

Except Jason really did not want to know.

Because even though he was trying to focus on Dick and what they were talking about, he felt stuck on the image of him and Dick living alone together in the desert, training together. The image was tainted with the idea of Dick being his sex slave, but it hit too close to what he had wanted when he held a hand down to Dick and asked him to come with him.

He had wanted everything that moment, everything he had pretended never mattered, and when Dick just closed his eyes, he left. After all, even before he asked, he knew Dick would never give up his loyalty to Bruce and once the words left his mouth, he knew he had been an idiot. So he had not waited for Dick to work himself up to whatever answer he was going to give.

He left and never asked again.

It hurt too much to think about.

“Alright,” he said past the lump in his throat. He would blame the hoarseness of his voice on their insufficient water if Dick ever asked. “But only as a back up. If we don't need it, there's no need to go through such a charade.”

He stopped, looking at where Dick sat at that front of the bike. “What are you doing?”

“You said you wanted me to drive,” Dick said, and Jason had, in case they ran into anyone else who would attack them. But he felt fragile and desperate, and frantically tried to decide which would be worse: sitting with Dick pressed full length to his back, or clinging to Dick's back himself, face up against the back of his neck and choppy remnants of hair.

“I did,” he agreed finally, because neither option felt better.

The last several days of Dick, breathing against his neck with the long line of his body pressed against Jason's spine had already been a kind of torture. This was no different, really.

At least Jason tried to tell himself that as he swung his leg over the back of the bike after making sure his bags were secured on the back, and scooted forward to wrap his hands around Dick's waist. He only had a moment to adjust before Dick took off along the cliff, keeping the convoy in their sighs off in the distance. Someone in the convoy might see them, but would probably dismiss them as small and unimportant.

It had been years since Jason had been on a bike Dick was driving.

He tried not to think about the last time, only holding on.

He did not think about Dick saying _so pretend I belong to you_.

-0-

Damian shifted, leaning against the edge of a roof, halfway across Gotham from where he had left Drake behind, looking betrayed and annoyed.  
  
Drake had no reason or justification for that look. Damian did not need to take orders from him and never would. Instead, he had found Pamela and Harley talking below all on his own, with no sign of the Joker around. 

“You know how he gets,” Harley said, not looking at her friend and Pamela grabbed her arm, forcing her back around.

“Yes, I know how he gets,” she said. “That's not the point. He's starting to unravel, and I frankly do not want to be around for the fall out.”

“It's not worse then usual,” Harley said, moving down the alley and both Damian and Pamela followed her.

“Yes, it is,” Pamela said. “You know, you see it, and yet you are incapable of actually acting on it.”

“Don't talk so loudly,” Harley said, shaking her head. “You never know who might be listening.”

“In this city? Probably everyone,” Pamela said and Harley looked at her a moment. There was something in the look that distracted Damian. He wanted to know what that look meant, why Harley was giving it to Pamela, who as far as Damian had ever known worked with the Joker and the others out of convenience rather then a desire to subjugate herself to the Joker's whims. As far as Damian knew, there was no affection there, no sort of ties beyond the obvious benefits of herd protection.

He missed whatever warning there was, before a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and twisted it up painfully, almost tight enough to choke him. Gasping, he flailed back, getting a hand in the collar of his shirt to keep it from actually cutting off his air, the other one going back to try and at least distract his opponent.

“No, no, little birdie,” the Joker hissed into his ear and Damian froze. “Don't fight like that. It's not becoming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Jason, taking the trope of fake dating to a whole new level.
> 
> (Meddalarksen is gonna hit me the next time she sees me for this chapter ending so I dedicate it entirely to her <3)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason working weekends makes me way more tired then I am during the week almost no matter what's going on. I didn't really mean to leave that cliffhanger last time.
> 
> I'm going on vacation in a couple days. Stay tuned for if that makes updates faster or slower...

There were candles burning in Bruce's office when Barbara wheeled herself in.

“Barbara,” he greeted, not looking up.

“Here,” she said, handing over a sheaf of papers, covered with her precise scrawl. “I've been combing everything, from bird patterns to all the chatter off the street. The Joker is doing something, but he really is missing Dick.” Her face was impassive, except for the tiny wince at saying Dick's name.

Bruce hummed, taking the paper and settling it down next to his elbow. When she remained silently staring at him, he finally looked up. “Was there something else?”

“Tim stopped by today,” she said. “On his way to look for Damian.”

“Damian is not missing,” Bruce said, already looking down again.

“No,” she agreed slowly. “Have you heard from him lately though?”

Bruce looked up, watching her for a moment before he frowned, obviously trying to track back to when his son had last checked in on the ear pieces that night. “He,” Bruce said, about to say Damian could take care of himself, which was true, but so could _Dick_.

Barbara folded her arms, leaning back in the wheelchair that Bruce and Dick had rigged up under her directions while she sat on her cot, Leslie Thompkins puttering around in the room, occasionally giving input as she worked on pulling the stitches out of the bullet wound.

Bruce looked away.

“You didn't notice, did you?” Barbara asked. “That you hadn't heard from him, that he went completely silent. Do you even know how he's doing, what he's thinking? How he's handling this?”

“Badly,” Bruce offered as if that was any answer at all, considering.

“Of course it's badly,” Barbara snapped. “Dick was the one he liked the most and while he's getting along with the rest of us now more then he did—that's not saying much. Tim is—” She cut off, switching tactics. “You're doing it, where you retreat. You did it when we all thought Jason—you cut us off. You retreated and pretended you weren't breaking apart. Dick and Tim kept you together, don't you remember? You barely let me in the door—admittedly I was having trouble moving at the time. Cass and Steph weren't here yet. You shut us out until Dick shouldered his way through and tossed Tim at you. Well this time Dick isn't here, and Tim is trying to hold the city together on his own. So without Dick, I'm going to be the one who tells you. You're being an idiot and we're going to pay the price if you don't get yourself back in the game.”

Bruce stared at her silently and she subsided into silence.

For a while, the only movement in the room was their breathing, and the flicker of the candles. Slowly, Barbara realized that Bruce was clenching his hands tighter and tighter.

“I am tired,” he said finally, quietly, the sound of defeat.

If she could have burst out of the chair, she would have, so instead she slammed her palms down on the wooden arm rests. “I don't care! I don't care, Bruce! We're all tired, I can't sleep at night, and on bad days I can barely move at all.” Bruce looked away. “I can't sleep because I know Dick is out there somewhere and I don't know where, because I have nightmares about the Joker too. We're all on our last leg, and you more then most, I know, but that doesn't matter.” His face might as well have been carved out of stone. “You made this city, Bruce, it's yours to protect. You made us, and you have to hold it together before it falls apart.”

“What if it's not worth it?” he asked, even more quietly.

“It has to be,” Barbara said.

“Dick,” Bruce started and swallowed his words down, looking at the desk instead. The candle light bounced off the hollow of his cheeks and the lines of his face. “I miss him.”

Barbara chose not to ask Bruce what he had originally asked to say. “I know,” she said, devastation in her voice. “I do too. Hold it together until he gets back. Don't shut us out, Bruce. You're always too likely to do that—don't let this break this family apart.”

Bruce's eyes flickered up as suddenly Tim's code came over the ear pieces, followed by frantic tapping. Before Barbara had time to do more then widen her eyes, Bruce was on his feet and through the door, Cassandra dropping down from where she had supposedly dozing in the rafters and following.

“Bruce—” Barbara started to say, the tapping still coming over the line, but Bruce and Cass were gone. “Be careful,” she said to the empty room, her fists clenched on empty air and old pain.

-0-

Jason pulled his bag off the bike, Dick stretching in the sand next to where Jason had stuck the lantern. Across the vast expanse, they could see the lights of the convoy where it had settled down for the night.

“Do we have enough to be able to eat anything?” Dick asked and Jason threw a protein bar in his lap. “Ah, just what I always wanted.”

“Don't bitch,” Jason said, going back into his bag and pulling out a razor. For a moment Dick stared at it with a frown before Jason sat down on the other side of the lantern, legs crossed as he scraped at his chin.

“Don't you usually use water with that?” Dick asked, turning the bar in his hand and convincing himself to eat it no matter how much he did not feel like it.

“Sure,” Jason said. “Like we have that to spare.”

“You'll cut yourself,” Dick said and Jason shrugged, moving with practiced motions.

“I'll do you next,” Jason said and stopped when Dick tensed. “What? Worried about me with a razor at your throat? Are you fucking kidding? I run into the desert and pull your ass out of a burning truck full of your kidnappers and you fucking—tense up when I over to shave you?”

Dick looked down, rubbing his chin. “I—”

“You are an asshole sometimes,” Jason said, and Dick winced. “We need to do your head too.”

“You want to shave my head?” Dick asked, eyes snapping up and Jason laughed, shaking his head and pointing with the razor.

“Well, for lack of a better option. You can grow it out again, but right now you look like a mess. The Joker or whoever got your hair didn't really give a fuck about how it looked. It's a mess. Besides, if we do have to,” and Jason cut off, swallowing. “Pretend, y'know, that...”

“That I might be your pleasure slave?” Dick asked, voice level and Jason flickered his eyes up to him, looking annoyed.

“Yeah, that,” he said. “If we have to go through with something like that, you gotta be presentable.”

Dick still scowled, running his hand over the uneven tuffs of his hair. “I still don't like it.”

“You don't really have to,” Jason said, finishing his own cheeks and chin and moving closer. “You haven't eaten yet.”

“Might as well get this over,” Dick said, setting the protein bar to the side.

“You gotta eat that at some point,” Jason said, crossing his legs again and reaching out for Dick's chin. Dick tensed when their skin touched and Jason hesitated too. They stared at each other, Dick watching Jason's face and Jason's eyes trained on where his fingers curled against Dick's skin. The moment stretched between them and Dick tried to keep his breathing even and not make any accidental sounds, or let his breathing get too shallow.

Jason's fingers were warm and rough on his skin, and his eyes too intent. Dick was really having trouble with his breathing.

“Jason,” he said finally and Jason's eyes snapped up, staring at him for a second before dropping back down.

“Right, right,” he said, his fingers moving along Dick's cheek and he gave up, holding his breath. For a moment he thought Jason's hand was just going to slide all the way around the back of his head and—

And what?

Instead he closed his eyes, and felt the scrape of the razor along his dry cheeks. He kept his eyes closed as Jason worked, hiding from the focus in Jason's face. Jason had never shown interest in him before, so he stamped down on whatever he had been thinking.

“You okay there, Dick?” Jason asked quietly and Dick snorted, because the razor had been removed but he still did not open his eyes.

“I'm fine,” he said, not quite audible. “I'm fine,” he repeated, firmer.

“Yeah?” Jason said, and Dick could almost hear him shaking his head. “I need to do your hair then.”

“Okay,” Dick said, before Jason's fingers were back, touching his cheeks and after a moment of just touching, Jason tilted his head down. Dick could hear him shifting up to his knees and still kept his eyes closed.

“I know your hair is your major vanity,” Jason started.

“I'm not vain,” Dick protested before he could continue. “I know, that, well, it seems like I am. But I never tried to be, well, what I look like.”

Jason's hands paused. “You're gorgeous,” he said and Dick's stomach twisted. “Might as well take advantage of it.”

“I thought that other people were supposed to be doing that,” Dick said and Jason was still not moving. “I mean, in what we were talking about, with the slavers and,” he finally opened his eyes, looking up and Jason was staring down at him. “What?”

“I,” Jason started and his mouth quirked. “I guess I never heard you talking about it before. Okay, maybe you aren't _vain_ about your hair, but you sure like it looking a certain way.”

“Bruce was the one who said we had to always look perfect,” Dick said softly. “It was his image we were upholding, not only our own.”

Jason scowled again and Dick felt like some moment had been broken, even if he did not quite have a handle on what that moment was. “Ever wonder what we might have been like with out him?”

“I don't think we would have met,” Dick said quietly and Jason jerked, like he wanted to throw the razor and move away.

“Yeah, because that's worked out so well for us,” Jason said and Dick's hand came up, wrapping his fingers around Jason's wrist still holding the razor and just holding on.

“I am glad I met you,” Dick said and Jason gaped at him. It might have been a comical expression on anyone else. “I am. I'm glad you came for me. I'm glad I met Bruce, I'm glad of—everything. Even though it hurts.”

“Even though it hurts,” Jason repeated at him. “I guess that's where we disagree.”

“Jason, I am,” Dick started and Jason shook his head.

“Just shut up and let me finish,” he muttered, and Dick bowed his head again, his hands twisted in his lap and feeling the scrape of the razor on his head, and the heat of Jason hovering in front of him. He wanted to reach out again, pull Jason against his chest and down to the sand, and whisper furiously in his ear about how much Dick _cared_ until maybe Jason would believe him.

Instead he remained silent until Jason drew back.

“Eat,” he said. “And go to sleep. I'll wake you up when I need to, okay?”

Dick kept his eyes on his lap before he nodded, running a hand over the top of his head and sighing. “It feels strange,” he said, but Jason had already turned away, shoulders tense.

So Dick ate the protein bar and stretched himself out on the sand. He fell asleep looking at the hard lines of Jason's back in the dim glow of their lantern.

-0-

When Damian was thrown on the ground he rolled, trying to stop his forward momentum before he reached the giant bonfire in the middle of the square. Once this had been a business distract, he thought, and there were still a few faded signs on buildings. Since Bruce came to power, however, this was where the Joker had taken up, marking out the lines of his territory and always daring Bruce to come after him. Now everything had his mark, from the fire that looked always like it might escape its bounds and take out the whole city to the strange paint and the small piles of crumbled rocks.

Dick had once pointed them out, saying those who traveled the same roads would often leave markers like that for themselves and others of their kind who might be following them. He said the way the rocks were stacked and arranged all meant something. Damian had snorted and dismissed it, though he always wondered what sort of message the Joker of all people would be leaving around his own territory.

There was one such odd pile of rocks in his face, between him and bonfire.

He stared at that because if he raised his head, he would have to see everyone standing there, more coming out of the shadows, who wanted him dead. Instead the rocks felt like they were trying to tell him something—and if he could figure it out, maybe he could survive.

Long shots were really what he had left. His ear piece had been ripped out and he had run away from Tim earlier, so no one knew where he was. Pamela and Harley were standing behind the Joker as he laughed, hands on his knees.

“Well, I lost one of them,” he said, waving his arms around and Damian pushed himself up on his knees, only to be kicked between the shoulder blades. The Joker bore his weight down on Damian's back, cackling and Damian grit his teeth to remain silent. “I lost track of him and I didn't manage to kill the other one—though what happened with him was almost better then if I had managed to kill him! Having him alive and bitter and furious was far more of a slap in old Brucie's face then his body would have been. Though, I still regret the other one got away,” the Joker said, leaning back and tapping his chin with his finger, foot still squarely planted on Damian's back. “I think _his_ body would have had an even better effect.”

“Do you even know any of our names?” Damian asked, and got kicked in the back of his head. He could taste blood in his mouth as he scrambled his fingers on the rough cement.

“Doesn't matter whether I do or not,” the Joker said and he stepped back. Damian pushed himself up, frantic to move and the Joker's hand snapped out to grab his hair, pulling him back. “I'm still going to destroy _everything_ in front of Bruce and this time I'm not going to make the mistake of trying to make a _show_ of it.”

His long fingers came around to grab Damian's chin and Damian tried to bite him. He heard the slither of metal on fabric and was fairly certain the Joker held a knife in his other hand, not a gun.

“Don't lie,” he goaded, because he had no other options. “You still make a show out of everything. Even this,” and he jerked his chin to the bonfire, to those surrounding them.

Damian wanted Dick. He had figured, when he thought about it, he would die alone, with only enemies watching. And it was better that this way, he was not alone because everyone else had fallen before him. But never had he wanted the other man so much to be there, to have someone to look at, someone's eyes to meet because it was a knife, and he could feel it dragging up his side. “See?” he said, mustering a grin because he thought Dick would want him to do something like that. “You're still taking it slow, putting on a show,” and he bit back his gasp when the knife pressed into his side, cutting but not going deep before the Joker started dragging it back up.

“I like to savor the moment,” he whispered into Damian's ear and thoughts about Dick were harder and harder to hold on to.

“I am not your fucking—” Damian started, feeling the metal inching closer and closer to his throat as suddenly there was a bright flash of light, several flares going off all at once above them, thrown out from the roof and Damian had to close his eyes against the brightness. The Joker jerked, his knife pressing into Damian's chest with no grace or force, barely cutting the skin.

Damian used his distraction to throw himself forward, sending both of them flat onto the ground as yelling started and kept getting louder, turning into a dull roar as he grappled with the Joker, trying to get the knife back.

He almost had it in his hands when Harley stomped hard on his shoulder, making him gasp and his grip fumble. Now he was flat on his back with both the Joker and Harley armed and standing above him. Except—“Damian!” he heard a scream and tilted his head back, exposing his throat to see Drake fling himself down through the night sky toward them.

“Damian look _out_!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the shortest chapter since the first one. Forgive me but I wanted to bang my head into the keyboard way too many times while writing it.

Tim slammed into Harley, knocking her over and getting kicked in the head by her flailing legs. But he was already turning around, throwing himself at the Joker to just get him _off_ of Damian. The Joker had already started to slash the knife he held down, and when Tim rolled them both it dug into Damian's shoulder, making him yelp in pain.

But he was moving now too, as Tim rolled the Joker over another time.

“You pest,” the Joker said, digging his fingers into Tim's throat and shoving him back. Struggling,Tim flailed his hands down, digging the heel of his hand into the Joker's nose and trying to keep from being thrown off. Damian flipped himself to his feet, touching his shoulder and deciding it would do, grabbing the bloodied knife and turning in time to fend off Harley swinging a hammer at his head.

“I don't really care which of you dies, in fact, both is even better,” the Joker said, flipping Tim over and slamming him into the ground, Pamela approaching behind Damian.

“Damian!” Tim yelled and Damian turned in time to back pedal away from both of them but Tim got slapped across the face hard enough his head hit the ground again and his ears rang. He kicked out, only grazing the Joker's leg with his boot. The Joker pressed both his thumbs against Tim's windpipe, shoving him back down into the concrete and choking him. Sputtering, he fumbled around on the ground until his fingers wrapped around a rock. He gasped, desperate to get air into his lungs and to distract the Joker from the fact he was dragging the rock closer and bracing himself before he slammed it against the side of the Joker's head.

Staggering, the Joker let him go and Tim scrambled away, barely gaining his feet before the Joker threw himself at Tim's knees. Tim went down again, kicking the Joker's chin. He had lost track of Damian, and many of the others in the area had not seemed to move into the fight yet. They were still standing around the bonfire and staring. Tim could see Oswald with his arms over his rotund stomach, watching through his scratched monocle.

But the Joker was already on him again and Tim's momentary distraction allowed him too close. The Joker grabbed his hips and dragged him across the rough concrete, making Tim gasp and try and catch himself.

“I am going to enjoy killing you,” the Joker said, and he was bleeding from his nose and the side of his head, red curling down his ear. “I wish I could do it more slowly.”

“You haven't really won anything yet,” Tim said, and his throat hurt through the cocky grin he had picked up from Dick. The bonfire was throwing the whole square into a strange light and it made the Joker's scars only stand out more. “I'm curious though,” he said, casually, as if they were just having a conversation and he wasn't flinging his arms out for anything because he could not reach his belt.

Suddenly Jason admonishing him to keep more across his chest made a whole lot more sense, even if it did slow him down more.

“You're acting really out of character,” Tim said, and he almost had another rock when the Joker slammed a knife through his hand, and Tim screamed. He thought he could hear Damian yell something but it was faded out behind the Joker's laugh.

“You mean because I never tried so actively to kill you before?” the Joker asked, and he twisted the knife, before he brought his hand down, tracing his fingers along Tim's jawline almost like a caress. “Because I've let Bruce have his little illusions, and it's been fun, really, fun,” and he slammed Tim's head back down on the pavement. While Tim was still trying to re-orient himself another knife appeared out of the Joker's pants and he slid it across Tim's stomach before digging it into his chest, glancing off one of his ribs and sinking in just a little bit deeper.

Tim definitely thought he could hear Damian screaming but the last thing he saw was the Joker yelping and falling off him, a bullet going through his shoulder.

-0-

Dick woke up to gunfire again. “One of these days, you're going to be the one on watch when this bullshit happens,” Jason said, holding his rifle on the seat of the motorcycle. Blinking at him, Dick had scrambled back behind shelter before he had processed what was happening.

“Is it the same people?”

“Fuck if I know,” Jason muttered.

Dick peeked his head around the edge of the motorcycle, noticing that at least the convoy had not moved at all nor paid any attention to the shoot out which they could probably hear.

“You could be a help, you know,” Jason said, glancing at Dick who stared back at him.

“Can we even see them?” Dick asked after a beat. “Or are you wasting bullets?”

Jason paused. “Okay. Point. Get on the bike, you're driving.”

“Is that a good idea?” Dick asked, already gathering up the supplies and shoving everything that was out into the saddlebag before throwing it back over the side of the bike, throwing the lantern in last, leaving them in almost total darkness.

“Can you drive without seeing?” Jason asked.

“I'll try my damnest,” Dick said. “We need to get on at the same time though.”

“Three, two, one,” Jason counted down and they both moved, Dick throwing his leg over the front and feeling Jason move in tandem with him behind. “Okay go,” and Dick roared the engine to life and shot the bike forward at the same moment.

“They'll be able to hear us,” Jason said.

“But hopefully not see us,” Dick said, and they were not going very fast, moving across the sand and around the old coral formations. Dick's head whipped around when a shot went off nearby, bouncing off the coral. Jason tensed behind him, and Dick could feel the gun he was holding pressed against his side.

-0-

Damian was pretty sure he was still screaming when the bullet went through the Joker's shoulder, and he fell off Tim. Tim did not seem to be moving, so Damian ignored the fact Harley was still swinging at his head to dive toward Tim. “Drake,” he demanded, skidding to a stop and ignoring whoever had shot the Joker. “Drake!”

The Joker pushed himself up, bleeding and deranged in the light of the bonfire and many of those who had been standing and watching the drama unfold slunk back away into the night when they say who was standing on the roof.

“My my,” the Joker said and his laugh sounded wet. “It has been a while since I've seen you with a gun.”

Bruce stared back down at him, impassively, and Damian could pick out the shadow directly behind him that was Cassandra, still hanging back but watching Bruce's back. “I would get away from them,” Bruce said, not having to raise his voice to be heard because almost everything had gone silent.

“Why?” the Joker asked, laughing. “What will you do, Bruce? What do you ever do except sit there and brood and whine and let the world fall down as long as it's not on your _head_?”

Damian had never seen his father fight, because Bruce had already ruled Gotham when he came out of the desert and slammed his way into his father's life, trying to demand his dues as the son of a warlord. Only Bruce was not a traditional warlord by any stretch of the word. So he was surprised when Bruce jumped from the roof like it was nothing, making the fall and the grapple hook look effortless despite his bulk, landing in front of the Joker, who was staring as much as Damian. Beside him, Tim was making quiet choked sounds, completely passed out.

“You have always known better,” Bruce said, advancing and he was a solid wall of muscle and how had Damian never realized how large his father was? “Then to attack my family. You should still know better.”

“You haven't given me a reason to be afraid of you in years,” the Joker hissed and Pamela had grabbed Harley and dragged her away from Bruce. “You've been sitting in your cave thinking a show of force you made years ago would scare—” and Bruce dropped the gun he had been holding, picking the Joker up by the front of his jacket instead and throwing him against the wall.

The Joker slid down it, laughing. “I will break your spine and lock you in that town hall,” Bruce said, advancing again, and Damian kept a hand down on Tim's pulse as he watched.

His breathing didn't sound good.

“I will lock you in there, sitting on a chair, unable to move, and let you watch the city pass along below you,” Bruce said, grabbing the Joker and yanking him back to his feet. “And never come and visit.”

“You wouldn't be able to keep yourself away,” the Joker rasped. “If you broke me and locked me up, you'd come and wouldn't I still be winning?”

“No,” Bruce said. “See, you're missing something important still. I don't obsess over you the way you do me. I would leave you alone, forever, until you died. You, without an audience,” and Harley broke away from Pamela to try and run at Bruce, only to be snatched back at the last second. “How would that feel?” Bruce asked, dragging the Joker as close as he could get.

“You're bluffing,” the Joker hissed and Bruce slammed him back against the wall, his head thudding painfully back and he sagged, dazed.

“I don't bluff,” Bruce said, his next blow knocking the Joker out. His eyes darted over to Damian, crouched over Tim. “Can you get him up?”

“No,” Damian admitted, and blood had seeped down his arm and his hands were covered with Tim's and his own and some of Harley's.

Bruce's eyes darted over to Oswald, one of the only others who had remained standing there as he started to clap. “You're always good for a show, Bruce,” he said.

“Why did you only watch?” Bruce asked, still holding the Joker limp in his hands.

“Because his business is his own,” Oswald said, inclining his head. “If he had won, it might have been a different story,” and Bruce sneered at him as Steph came running down a fire escape and into the square. She was covered in bruises and cuts but was moving easily.

“I ran into—” she started and came to a complete stop, looking at Damian and Bruce, eyes skidding in panic over Tim's form.

“Take Tim,” Bruce said, jerking his chin to where Cassandra was still hiding in the shadows to show Steph which way to go. “Get him to Leslie. Damian, go with them.”

“What about you?” Damian managed, and he barely managed to let Steph take Tim from under his hands and Bruce only stared at him before slinging the Joker over his shoulder and taking off the other way. “We shouldn't leave him alone,” Damian said, as Steph pulled Tim up and staggered under his weight.

“I think disobeying him right now sounds like a worse plan,” she said, and headed the other way, Cassandra dropping from the roof to join her once they were away from the bonfire. Damian remained standing for too long before following.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this completely [amazing fanart](http://victoriousscarf.tumblr.com/post/127111656297/pickledart-ok-so-i-read-this-fic-by-amazing) [pickledart](http://pickledart.tumblr.com/) drew for this story! (And yes you get the link with all my hysterical pleased comments on it)
> 
> Incidentally, vacation made my updates slower by far. Good to have that question answered I guess.

“Are they still following us?” Dick asked as another stray shot hit where his head might have been a second ago.

“Yes,” Jason said, and he twisted around but couldn't see anything through the murky light of dawn. “Persistent too.”

“When it gets light we'll all be able to see each other better,” Dick said.

“Which hopefully means it'll be two of us against one of them,” Jason said, squinting his eyes. “Or we'll need to hit the gas before they do. Think you're up for that?”

“It's gonna be closer to blind luck, which of us hits the gas first,” Dick said, narrowing his eyes in front of him. “I'm starting to make out shapes better but not enough to actually try going full speed with no lights on.”

“Well, just let me know,” Jason said, and his hand was pressed against Dick's stomach, his other holding his gun and Dick tried to concentrate on where they were going, not on either of those hands.

Above them the sky continued to lighten, Dick slowly tried to rev up the speed without making it too obvious to their pursuer. He felt deadened and heavy with how exhausted he was, and all the bruises and rattled bones ached. “Do you have any idea where the convey is anymore?”

“I—” Jason started and stopped. “Fuck. No.”

“I've been trying to circle to our left,” Dick said. “We might be able,” and he broke off, slamming the breaks on the bike hard as Jason yelped and nearly toppled forward as they skidded to a stop, Dick barely keeping the bike upright.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Jason started and stopped as he looked over Dick's shoulder at the group of people standing in front of them. “Okay, and for a whole new reason now I repeat, what the _fuck?”_

“There's someone following us,” Dick said, as the front figure stepped closer and they could hear the rev of the engine coming up closer to them.

“Deal with it,” the front figure snapped and Dick flinched, recognizing the feminine voice. The figure on her left raised a rifle and a single shot rang out. Dick and Jason both turned to see the bike that had been following them fall flat, skidding a short ways.

“Oh, it was two on one,” Jason remarked and Dick snapped his head back around.

“So you shot them and not us,” Dick said.

“We've been watching you a few days,” she replied. “And I recognize you. Why?”

“Dick,” Jason said, tightening his grip on Dick's waist and his gun at the same time. “What's going on?”

“Ah,” she said, pulling her head wrapping back. “Dick Grayson, one of Bruce's boys.”

“Yes,” Dick said. “It's been quite a few years, Talia, and we did not talk much then.”

“No,” she agreed and Jason if possible got tenser behind him. “But I have heard of you since then, in the rare missive my son bothers to send.”

The corners of Dick's mouth twitched. “I have heard much of you since then as well,” he said.

“Does that mean we aren't killing and stripping them?” the one with the rifle asked and Jason tensed again, poised to attack if he had to.

“I'm intrigued at the moment,” Talia said. “We will talk more, first.”

“And then do you decide if we live or die?” Jason asked and Dick reached back to grip his thigh hard, warning him to shut up. There was something wrong in his voice and Dick set it down to panic.

“You weren't shot on sight,” Talia said, turning away. “Stow your bike there and follow us,” she said, heading through a patch of coral that lead down into a cavern. Dick looked at Jason before he slung his leg back over the bike.

“Jason,” he said softly and Jason stiffly followed suit, spending a while fussing over his bike as Dick helped him with the bags.

“They are probably going to rob and kill us,” Jason snarled under his breath and Dick jerked his head to where several of the hooded figures were stripping the other bike down of supplies.

“I think if they were going to, we'd be dead,” he said.

“I don't like that they already know about you and Bruce,” Jason said. “He is not a popular man outside of Gotham.”

“Popular,” Dick huffed. “She's Damian's mother, she slept with Bruce at one point.”

Jason stared at him. “I can't tell if that makes this worse or better, actually,” and they were being stared at.

“Come on,” Dick hissed, grabbing Jason's arm and pulling. “We need to follow Talia.”

“Oh yes, let's not keep the person holding our lives in their hands waiting,” Jason muttered under his breath as he followed Dick down the crack in the coral and into the cave. “Damn,” he said, not as quiet as he meant to at the size of the cave.

“This,” Dick started, looking around at the people moving around with a purpose. “This must have been made when this was an ocean, filled with water. I wonder how many other catacombs are beneath the rocks here— ”

“Dick, focus,” Jason said, uncomfortable with the number of people looking at them.

“Yes, of course,” Dick said, ducking his head down and taking the well worn steps to where Talia stood in the middle of the contained chaos around her.

Her arms were crossed over her chest as she turned and looked at him. “Why is Bruce's boy wandering the desert? Not running away from Gotham, I would hope?”

“No,” Dick said, quickly, and Jason hung over his shoulder. “Trying to return to Gotham. I was kidnapped and we are, well, lost. Our compass was destroyed and,” he shrugged. “We're running out of supplies.”

Talia tilted her head toward him. “What a sorry story for one of your stature.” She paused, considering him again. “I want you to understand,” she said, “The only reason I would consider helping you is because you are the only person my son speaks highly of.”

“But you are considering it,” Dick said.

“It would be more... entertaining to send you back to Bruce,” she said and Dick could feel Jason wince behind him. “We have little to give.”

“All we would need is a compass,” Jason said. “And perhaps some water—”

“A compass?” Talia laughed. “What a luxury item to ask for. We certainly could not spare that.” She turned, gesturing to one of her fellows. “Unless you found a compass on the bike following them?”

“No,” he said. “There was almost nothing. Some scant food and ammunition, but they were as desperate as these two seem to be.”

Dick swallowed, meeting Talia's eyes as she turned back to him. “What are you willing to offer us then?”

“Very little,” she said. “You may stay here long enough to sleep and to share food and water with us. We have nothing to send with you, however.”

“Can you point us back to the convoy we were following?” Dick asked. “We have no other way to navigate this desert.”

“Or tell us how far we are from Atlantis?” Jason added, obviously unable to keep quiet any longer.

“Two days,” Talia said. “And we can send you back to where they are when you're ready.”

Jason was still tense, but Dick bowed, performing the complicated hand gesture Damian had taught him on a whim. “That is more then we could possibly ask for.”

Talia's smile was faint. “Ah. I see Damian does rather like you.”

“I would dare say he might be fond,” Dick said faintly.

“Come,” Talia said, waving her hand again. “The mess hall is this way.”

Dick fell into step behind her, and Jason behind him. “I don't like this,” Jason said.

“We're not being shot at and we're being fed,” Dick said.

“You trust too easy,” Jason accused.

“No,” Dick said, not looking back at Jason. “But I know Damian and this is his mother. If I can trade information on her son for our stomachs and momentary safety, I gladly will.”

“Would Damian like you telling his mother about him?” Jason asked. “He did move to Gotham after all?”

“He misses his mother,” Dick said softly. “Even though he might not—” Dick broke off, and shook his head slightly. “It's complicated.”

“Alright,” Jason said. “I guess this means I have to trust you and follow your lead this time?”

“Yes,” Dick said and he finally stopped scanning the whole room to turn his head and smile at Jason, who narrowed his eyes slightly.

“We're only two days from Atlantis,” Jason said. “That's good news at least.”

“Good news,” Dick said under his breath. “What a relative thing that's become.”

He managed not to flinch when Jason rested his hand against his back for a moment. “We'll make it back,” he said. “We'll get you back there.”

“Yeah,” Dick said and they came to were Talia was waiting.

-0-

Tim woke up slowly, more slowly because it was dark and he couldn't quite tell the line between being awake and being unconscious still. There was a faint beep and he could feel the IV in his arm, which meant he was probably in Leslie's clinic. It was one of the only buildings in Gotham hooked up to an old and rusty generator, but all that power went to the few shaky medical machines with none left over for the lights.

There were candles though, he saw, creating a strange flickering light across Damian's face.

“You're awake,” Damian said, and Tim blinked.

“I guess,” he rasped, surprised the words came out at all. “You on guard duty?”

“Yes, because apparently you are stupid enough to,” and Damian bit off what he was about to say. Moments later he was speaking again. “You almost got yourself killed, Drake. You're alive by sheer chance and mere moments. If my father had been a second too late—”

“He wasn't,” Tim said.

“He could have been!” Damian yelled. His voice was still not as deep as Bruce's, but he managed a fair imitation of his angry rumble. “You almost died.”

“You're angry,” Tim frowned, and that took too much effort. “You're actually mad. I saved your life,” and his voice was still low and raspy, but he found it easier to form words.

“It's not that you saved my life,” Damian said, stiffening. “It's how you saved my life. By risking your own.”

“I still saved you,” Tim said, annoyed and aching.

“Drake,” Damian snarled and moved forward, bracing his hands on either side of Tim's head and leaning over. “You are _missing the point_.”

“What's the point?” Tim asked, blinking and turning his head enough to stare at Damian's arms, as if he could not quite figure out why they were there.

“You almost died.”

“Noted,” Tim said. “I do remember, and am feeling it now.” He had no idea what happened to the Joker and did not much feel like asking.

Damian in response snarled, leaning further over Tim. “Grayson is gone and you almost died. Father—is alive but barely balanced and you were so stupid enough to—”

“For once in your life can you spit out what's bothering you?” Tim asked, trying to sink further into the pillows and desperately wishing he might sleep again.

Before he had a chance to fend him off, Damian slung his leg over the bed, bracing himself over Tim's body. “Jesus, Damian, what the hell—” Tim started because everything hurt and Damain's movement jarred the whole bed.

He cut off abruptly when Damian's mouth covered his in a sloppy, harsh kiss that involved too many teeth and too much anger to be romantic. But Damian made sure Tim could feel it.

“You almost died,” he snarled, pulling back and Tim stared at him, eyes wide.

“You tried to kill me,” he said blankly. “When we met you _tried to kill me_. For _months_. You don't even like me. You stopped because Dick made you and you like _him_. The only time we've gotten along was agreeing we didn't want him to leave us.”

“Yes,” Damian said, mouth twisted and he was still hovering over Tim, making him once aware of Damian's latest growth spurt. “But you almost died.”

“This is about Dick more then me,” Tim decided to himself with a tiny nod. “You miss him and are worried and the adrenaline of facing the Joker—It's not really about me at all you just need an outlet—”

“Drake,” Damian snarled. “Shut up,” and he kissed him again, still too hard and still with their teeth clanking together painfully, but it was softer now and before he could stop himself, Tim tilted up into it, his arms too heavy to raise but—but he wanted to.

There was a clatter at the door, Steph standing there with the firelight reflecting off her blonde hair. “Uh,” she said and Damian narrowed his eyes at her, while Tim had trouble focusing. “Bruce is coming,” she said, eyes darting between them and Tim knew the instant they were alone he was going to be in for—something, from her.

Damian tried to remove himself gracefully, only he fumbled and almost fell over, making Tim whine in high pitched pain. But when Bruce arrived at the door, Damian was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You're awake,” Bruce said, and something in the line of his shoulders sagged.

“Yes,” Tim said, throat clogged because sometimes he forgot what it was like to have the full weight of Bruce's attention on him. Silently, Bruce came into the room and sat in the chair where Damian had been earlier, taking one of Tim's hands in his and saying nothing else.

But that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always really liked the idea that somehow, somewhere Damian and his mom really do love each other but have a very complicated idea of what that means, and in the end Damian really does chose his father's way of living over hers. But that's not a rejection of her entirely. 
> 
> (Also writing her and Dick all I can really think about is the Nightwing: Freefall arc where they basically respect and try to out threaten each other. It's sorta impressive)


	11. Chapter 11

Dick woke up when he heard Jason move.

It took him a moment too long to remember why his belly didn't ache, and why he had clean bandages around the wounds that were still healing. And that Jason had claimed the first watch that night. Talia had looked at him a moment too long when he said that in her hearing.

“Don't you trust us?” she had asked, and Jason had only glared.

Dick had been too exhausted to argue either way, curling up on his side before Talia had even left the room.

But now he listened to Jason's footsteps padding to the door and hesitating before moving out. Awake now, Dick swung his legs over the edge of the ledge he had been sleeping on, following and stopping with his back against the wall when he heard Jason's low voice speaking to Talia.

“So, how goes the search for dear dad?”

Talia huffed and the lights were dim in the cave, Dick shifting his shoulders and controlling his breathing as he listened.

“It clearly could be going better,” she said. “He's gone quite to ground.”

“Or, you know, is dead,” Jason offered and Dick could imagine the glare Talia was giving him, just based on the way she had looked at Bruce. “Anything could have happened to him out there.”

“Like what happened to you?” Talia asked. “I'm surprised, honestly, to see you with one of Bruce's pets.”

“They—we,” and Jason stopped. “It's not pets. It's never been about being his pet.”

“Then what is the weird sense of misplaced loyalty?” Talia asked. “You said you hated them.”

“Bruce,” Jason cut in. “It's never been about—it's always been about Bruce.”

“Not Grayson?” Talia asked. “You know, I remember—”

“This isn't what I came out here to talk about,” Jason snapped, the loudest they had gotten.

“No, you came out here to mock me about my father,” Talia said. “It's fair play. Don't you remember that concept?”

“From you? Hell no,” Jason said and Dick realized he was curling and uncurling his fingers, head resting against the wall as he listened. “So. Did I succeed enough in pretending like I'd never seen you before?”

“Admirably,” she said.

“You were coming to make sure our old deal still held, right?” Jason said. “Because damn, I'd like to go to bed rather then rehash that.”

“I did save your life,” she said, tone mild. “Again.”

Dick could imagine the dismissive and angry gesture Jason made. “We pretend we've never met before. It's better for me and a whole lot better for you. Even without daddy your men wouldn't like that blatant moment of goodwill toward Bruce.”

“You call him Bruce when you're angry with him,” Talia remarked. “And when you're with an outsider like myself. It's intriguing.”

“At least this time you have the excuse that your son likes Dick,” Jason snapped. “Good _night_.”

“I didn't save your life those years ago in the desert because of Bruce Wayne,” Talia said. “Good night.”

And Jason stormed back into the small alcove they had been assigned, stopping because Dick was still pressed against the wall starring at him. For a long moment all they did was stare.

“You could have told me,” Dick said. “You put on an act in front of me, even when you didn't have to.”

“Easier,” Jason said. “Don't have to worry about slipping up. Are you awake then? Because I'd like to go to sleep,” and he stomped over to the ledge, laying down with his shoulders stiff and back to Dick.

For a long moment Dick stared at him before he slid down the wall, crossing his legs and resting his wrists on his knees.

Jason yelled at him in the morning because he fell asleep like that, watching Jason's breathing.

-0-

Talia came early to shuffle them both outside. “I suggest not looking for this place again,” she said, Jason refusing to look directly at her. “We will move on in a matter of days.”

“Wouldn't dream of trying to find you again anyway,” Jason said.

“Good,” Talia nodded before she motioned to Dick to the outcropping. “There,” she said pointing. “Do you see the light glinting?”

“Yes,” Dick said.

“That's your convoy. Follow the sun until you are closer,” and she turned away, back down the hidden steps.

“Do you want me to say anything to Damian?” Dick asked, Jason already fussing over his bike again.

She paused, the sun bright over head for once instead of murky. “No,” she said, and disappeared.

Dick sighed, turning toward Jason as he pulled the bike out. “Do you want to drive?” he asked, and Jason shook his head.

“Nah, I think I'm better at defense and you can drive,” he said, slinging a leg over the bike and Dick took a moment too long to stare. “Dick?” Jason asked.

“Why didn't you tell me about Talia?” Dick asked, finally moving to take his position on the bike, Jason pressing against his back, his knees knocking against Dick's legs and he was aware of the touches more then he had been in days.

“I already said,” Jason said. “It's easier to keep the lie all the time.”

“So what happened with you two?” Dick asked, tilting his head back to consider the position of the sun before taking off in the direction indicated.

“That's not really your business,” Jason said, and his fingers flexed against Dick's stomach.

“Which means you don't want to tell me,” Dick said, not quite a sigh.

“Think we'll make it the last two days to Atlantis?” Jason asked, an obvious subject change and Dick allowed it despite the churning in his stomach.

“Yes,” he said, because he saw no other option.

-0-

“Have you decided at all how we're actually going to get into the city?” Dick asked, his back pressed against the bike because he had no where else to retreat as Jason shaved again.

“Not in specific,” Jason said, not looking at him. They could see spires above the landscape, several hours ride out. Atlantis had electric lights at night still and Dick felt something burn in his chest. A rage or need he did not know, because Gotham too often was lit only with fire.

“We'll have to come up with something,” Dick said, arms curled around his knees. When Jason did not reply, Dick took the lantern wedged between the bike and its stand, cranking the wheel to keep the light going. “Is it even safe to camp this close?”

“Yeah,” Jason said.

“Been here before?” Dick asked and Jason finally looked at him.

“Are you gonna be suspicious of everything now?” Jason asked.

“Suspicious? No. I just realized I have no idea what you... did for those years, when you were away,” Dick said, resting his chin on his knees because the lantern was burning strongly and he had no other distraction. “Talia was perhaps the tip of that, but, I honestly have no idea.”

“I don't feel like talking about it,” Jason said. 

“Oddly enough, I got that,” Dick said, and his fingers kept moving, tapping and curling and flickering because he could not hold still. “But I'm still curious.”

“Learn to live with it,” Jason said, finishing and looking at Dick. He hesitated before holding the blade out. “Come on, I need to do this again.”

“I could probably do it myself,” Dick said after a moment, when he tensed too obviously.

“You still don't trust me?” Jason asked and his eyes were shadowed so Dick had no idea if they had darkened more.

“It's not about trust,” Dick said. “I would rather just, take care of myself.”

“Come here,” Jason said, gesturing again and Dick unfolded his legs, shifting forward and closing his eyes. “You don't have to close your eyes for this,” Jason said but Dick didn't open them, only tilting his chin when Jason's fingers curled there, a light pressure.

There was silence, and Dick could almost forget that Jason was holding a knife to his throat, his fingers warm against his chin and cheeks, guiding his head around as he needed. “There,” Jason said finally. “And your hair's starting to grow back. You almost look presentable. With a bath, I mean.”

Dick drew back, letting out the breath he had been holding, and folded into himself again. “You only look awful for being in the desert for days yourself,” he said and Jason laughed.

“Just think, there might even be a place with beds,” and Dick groaned, almost a moan and when he opened his eyes Jason was staring at him, his hand hovering oddly in the air before he ran it through his hair. “And water. Different food.”

“You're making the city sound quite decadent,” Dick remarked, frowning at Jason's hand.

“For the rich it is,” Jason said, and rested his elbows on both his knees. “You can't act or think like this is Gotham.”

“I know it's not Gotham,” Dick said. 

“Sure,” Jason said. “But until you see it, you're not going to understand. So you can't react, or start acting like a hero or an idiot or anything. Okay? We're going to try this but the instant someone goes after you—”

“You're really assuming they're going to,” Dick said, shifting.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason said.

“So we act like I belong to you,” Dick said. “I'll be docile and clingy.”

Jason was staring at him again, eyes dark in the light from the lantern and Dick pressed himself against the metal of the bike. When Jason reached forward he flinched, and tried to hide it when Jason reached past and dug around the compartment of the bike before drawing back.

“It's sort of like that,” Jason allowed finally, and Dick was watching him as intently as he was watching Dick. “But you gotta understand. Being a slave, or belonging to someone. You can't question me, or hell, even act out. You...”

“I'm not that bad at acting,” Dick said.

“You're headstrong,” Jason said. “And used to being yourself.”

“We just need to be there long enough to get supplies and head back to Gotham,” Dick said. “We'll be in and out and we won't be there long enough for it to be a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really a breather chapter to get them moved from point a to point b. 
> 
> Everyone breathing? Nice deep breathes? okay good.
> 
> (Dick you should know better then to say things like that, about getting in and out fast with no problems. You should just /know better/)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people asked in the comments if Dick /really/ was gonna have to pretend to be Jason's sex slave. The answer, of course, is yes.
> 
> The Arrow family was unplanned but since they are my utter favs it was really a matter of time.
> 
> Let's not even talk about how hard I found it to write this chapter for no apparent reason.

Jason drove them into Atlantis, and Dick tried not to crane his neck back too much as they passed through the thick walls. They were made of a shiny and black stone that reflected the cloudy sky as much as the patches of bright blue. “This,” he breathed.

“Don't look too impressed,” Jason muttered back, stopping at the first checkpoint. There was no papers or other identification they were asked for, and the checkpoint seemed pointless.

“Why is this here?” Dick asked.

“I don't know,” Jason said, but as they moved past, Dick twisted his head back and saw several vehicles stopped and turned back into the city.

“What if it's to keep people from leaving?” he whispered and Jason's hands tightened on the bars of the bike.

“Too late to turn back down,” he said, stopping at the second check point who waved them through without a thought.

“What are we gonna do?” Dick asked, because the buildings here were tall and he kept looking up to the skyline.

“I know a place we can hole up,” Jason said. “Assuming they haven't been kicked out, run away, or died. Then we find a market and get the supplies we need.”

“Do we have currency?” Dick asked after a beat.

“I do,” Jason said. “Have no fucking idea if you do.”

Dick sighed, resting his cheek against the back of Jason's shoulder because they both knew he had nothing and he knew Gotham was different but this city crawled under his skin. “Shut up,” he said instead. “You know I don't.” He paused, the question to ask Jason where he got it on the tip of his tongue.

He decided he had no desire to know.

“What do we need?” he asked, when Jason finally pulled the bike to a stop outside a building that Dick hoped was his contact. The street was dusty but the buildings around them were tall and narrow, and made out of that same shiny black stone as the walls had been.

“Gas, compass, food, water,” Jason said and tilted his head at the bike. “I think it'll hold back across the desert without repairs.”

“Can we risk that?” Dick asked, and when Jason got off the bike, he stayed sitting, hands folded in his lap.

“Don't know,” Jason admitted. “But we can't really get ahead of ourselves either.” He turned his head, seeming to spot what he was looking for. “Wait here.”

“Wait,” Dick hissed but Jason was swaggering up to a man standing near the doorway. Which left Dick in his line of sight, but more or less alone to anyone looking. And people were looking, Dick noticed, mostly lurking on the edges of the street and Dick had long since stopped feeling comfortable in crowds. Crowds meant people usually either willing to watch the show, or to attack. Even a small crowd could over power any of Bruce Wayne's allies, no matter how flashy or quick they were.

He kept his hands folded on the seat in front of him, holding still as his eyes darted around.

There were just too many strangers.

He was tense enough he almost missed it when one of them started to approach.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice even only because it was totally flat.

“You came from outside?” the person in front of him asked, his dark hair curly.

“Yes,” Dick said, not quite meeting his eyes because he was more interested in the fact others were starting to slink closer and Jason was still standing there talking, a new man having joined the first one. Dick frowned, because was the whole street made up of men?

“And why would you come to Atlantis?” the man in front of him asked.

“Supplies,” Dick replied, because that was obvious, wasn't it? His knuckles had gone white from how tight he was clenching his hands. “It is hard outside.”

“Hard inside too,” another voice said, from above, and Dick looked up in alarm to see a woman leaning out a window, smoking and watching them.

“Must have a lot of currency,” a new voice said, behind him and Dick jumped only a second before big hands clamped over his biceps and pulled him up. “Unless, of course, it's your friends plan to sell you. I could have a lot of buyers for a desert flower like you—”

Dick barely restrained himself from lashing out. “Put me down,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, as if he wasn't ready to strike out and as if his heart wasn't hammering too damn hard in his chest.

“You're right,” a slender man on the big's one side said. “He would fetch such a pretty price—”

“Hey!” Jason yelled, storming up and his rifle was slung over his shoulder. “Put him down.”

“Why?” the man holding Dick asked. “Your friend here could be sold to the damn palace—”

“Because he already belongs to me,” Jason thundered and Dick stopped breathing. He caught himself when he was released, sinking back onto the bike, but he could not take his eyes away from Jason's eyes, the rage on his face, and the way he had said _belongs_ and Dick was going to lash out at the first thing that came near him.

“Not interested in selling?” the slender man asked, and the curly haired man had already disappeared into the crowd.

“No,” Jason snarled, the two he had been speaking too hovering behind his shoulders as he stormed up, grabbing Dick around the waist and hauling him against his side. Instead of pushing him away, Dick forced himself to melt against his side.

“Odd,” the slender man said. “For someone from the desert to have such a slave as this.”

“What can I say?” Jason shrugged. “He's just that worth it, and you'll never fucking know why.”

“Odder still,” the man continued and Dick curled the fingers of his hand in the back of Jason's jacket. “To leave him alone with your bike.”

Jason laughed. “Look, even a pleasure slave can't just look pretty in the desert.” Dick's fingers tightened and neither of them flinched, though Dick thought he could feel a quiver near Jason's spine and he had never wanted to hit a face hard enough to see it bleed for the _pleasure_ of it, as much as he wanted to hit this man.

“Come on,” the blond man Jason had been talking to said. “Roy, get the bike.”

Jason made a mocking gesture at the slender man and steered Dick inside the building. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Dick hissed under his breath and Jason looked down at him, something dark in his eyes and something pitying and Dick would have shoved him away except in the next second the blond man walked back inside.

“Nice timing, Todd,” he said. “Way to walk right back into the city at the worst time possible.”

“It's been at least a year,” Jason protested. “How was I supposed to know that the place was in lock down?”

“It's in _what_?” Dick yelped and the blond man stared at him before grinning.

“Yeah, I was pretty sure you didn't have a pleasure slave,” he said, running a hand over his beard.

“Shut up, Ollie,” Jason said. “And don't fuck up the act.”

Dick finally shoved away from him because apparently Jason knew this man enough to trust him, even as the red head walked in. “What do you mean, lock down? I mean, I saw the gates but that means no one is getting out!”

“No one currently is,” Roy said, crossing his arms. “Don't think we've met before?”

“We haven't,” Dick said, too abruptly because panic was clogging his throat. “We were supposed to just be here for supplies and _leave_. Not get stuck here.”

“I know,” Jason snapped and Dick swallowed down his panic and need to run and looked at the ground. “But we didn't have a choice, you're the one who insisted we come here and I agreed because you were right. Don't you like hearing you're right? Doesn't that get you through the whole fucking day?”

“Fuck off,” Dick growled and Roy actually laughed. “And you too,” Dick added, irritated.

Ollie ran another hand over his face. “And you're gonna pretend to be a pleasure slave with you're stuck here?” he asked Dick mildly and Dick bit back the growl he wanted to unleash.

“The longer they'll be here, the harder that's gonna be,” Roy said. “Damn bad town for it.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I know. But what are you gonna do stuck in the desert with no compass or water?”

“The markets are closed down too, right now,” Ollie said. “You won't be able to get the supplies you need for at least a couple more days before you can ever figure out how to get out.”

“What caused the lock down anyway?” Jason asked, pinching his nose and Dick sat down on a rickety chair in the corner before he fell down.

“What do you think?” Ollie asked.

“Black Manta is feeling particularly annoyed at the resistance,” Roy said. “And by annoyed I mean murderous and ready to start burning down his own city just to get back at Arthur Curry.”

“But why shut down the whole city for that?” Jason asked. “The resistance here has only been a nuisance—” He stopped dead, staring at Roy and Ollie who both had painted innocent expressions on their faces. “Oh you _fuckers_.”

“We're just trying to help, spreading the good fight, blah blah,” Ollie said. “Wouldn't your daddy be proud?”

“He's not—” Jason started. “Actually, no, he'd be more likely to say you never had an original thought in your head and I'm starting to agree with him.”

"Hey, fuck you too," Ollie said. 

“You're not even from this city!” Jason protested.

“Technically not from any city after Star City was destroyed,” Roy said mildly and Jason winced. “Might as well do good somewhere else, right?”

“So let me just, get this all straight,” Jason said. “The city is locked down, and the markets are closed down. But people can still just stroll into this mess?”

“There's a big celebration at the palace,” Roy said. “Something about BM's son coming of age or some bullshit.”

“I cannot believe you call him BM straight faced,” Jason said, looking at the ceiling.

“Better then saying Black Manta every time,” Roy said and there was a scuffle at the top of the stairs. Instantly everyone's head snapped over to the blond woman holding a bow and arrow and pointing it right at Jason.

“Mia—” Ollie started.

“Saw your little drama on the street,” she said, looking at Dick and he recognized her as the smoking woman from the window. “So I'm gonna need to hear this from you: that man ever enslave you? Or touch you wrong?”

Dick stared at her in shock, and he could feel the tension everywhere in the room. “No,” he said. “No, he never has.”

“It's an act,” Jason said, an edge to his voice. “To you know, keep his sorry ass safe, though god knows that's a difficult job.”

If it had been a month ago, Dick would have disagreed. But he felt out of depth in this city, and the casual way Jason knew so much more about the world outside Gotham. And months ago he had not been ambushed and dragged bleeding in to the desert.

“I swear,” Dick added and Mia finally lowered the bow. Her hair was damp, Dick realized, which might have explained why she took such a long time coming down the stairs.

“Good,” she said, stepping into the room and finally looking at Ollie. “I was wondering why you would accept anyone in with a sex slave like that.”

“I wouldn't,” Ollie said, a shade of hurt in his voice.

“Come on, I'll scrounge up dinner,” Roy said, moving easily through the center of the room as if no one had been pointing a weapon at anyone. “Sometime, I'm gonna need a formal introduction though,” he added right before going through the doorway and Dick frowned.

“I'll show them upstairs,” Ollie said after a beat. “Mia, think we have an extra room?”

“They'll be able to use Connor's for tonight,” she said after a beat and Ollie's expression stumbled before he nodded.

“Come on,” he gestured up the black and narrow stair case. Jason followed and after a moment Dick unfolded himself.

“So,” Jason said, somewhere between the second and third story of the narrow house. “Gathering your strength to make this lie work?”

“I'm going to have to be submissive at all times in public,” Dick said, more to himself than Jason. “Or the whole cover's blown.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, because what Dick said was a statement of fact more then a question.

Dick squeezed his eyes closed. “Fuck,” he muttered, and Mia was following him. “Yes,” he said finally, because he had been grappling with that the whole time he had also been paying attention to their conversation about resistance. “Yes, I can make this lie work.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, two chapters in one day? 
> 
> Yeah apparently that was a thing that happened. I also should not have made the mix so early in the fic because I swear the last two chapters were written on "All Fall Down" by Five Knives on repeat and like that song and this fic are now melded together forever.

When it got dark, Jason slipped up to the roof, finding Mia already there, sitting on the side with her legs dangling off and smoke curling around her.

“I see someone had my same idea,” he said, approaching carefully. “Isn't Ollie gonna flip?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He usually gets pretty unhappy when I smoke but,” she shrugged. “Doesn't seem like much point to quitting.”

“Good, because god please tell me you'll share,” he said and she laughed before handing him one.

“If Ollie comes up I can just say it was your idea,” she said and Jason narrowed his eyes at her.

“Thanks, get me kicked out of the only place I know in town,” Jason said and she smiled at him, before they lapsed into smokey silence.

It was weird, still, to see Atlantis lit up at night, Jason thought. He was used to only star and moon light, or the strange glow of Gotham. Atlantis looked like a thousand small cold stars sunk to Earth. “Do you miss Star City?” he asked after a beat.

“Do you miss Gotham?” she returned.

“It's different, I can still go back to Gotham,” Jason said. “I do, even. Sometimes.”

“But you go back,” Mia said. “It's not really your home anymore. So, do you miss Gotham?”

Jason watched the smoke curl in front of his face, reflected off the cold electric lights. It was cold up on the roof. “I miss who I thought I was when I lived there. I miss the joy of it, of feeling like I belonged. I miss knowing the streets like the back of my hands. I don't miss the ruin of it, I don't miss Bruce fucking Wayne but I miss—” and he cut off, taking another long drag of smoke rather then continue.

Because Mia was staring at him like she knew there was more.

He didn't miss Bruce Wayne, not in the normal way people missed other people. When he thought about Bruce there was a mixture of longing and soreness and unbelievable rage. He never knew, when he lay by himself under the stars against the side of his bike, if when he next returned to Gotham he wanted to punch Bruce or cling to him and beg him to never let him go again.

Other things were easier to miss.

Dick, if possible, had been harder to miss then Bruce but now the problem was not how much he missed Dick, but how much Dick was there, pressed against him on the bike for days and then on the street.

Mia was still staring at him, a half smile on her face. “Then you don't need to ask if I miss Star City. You were thrust out of your city but you can still go home.”

“I didn't think you had much to miss from Star City,” Jason said after a beat.

“Horrible things happened there,” Mia said. “As they have at some point or another everywhere else in the world. Gotham was cruel to you,” she said, tilting her head back. “You still love it. I still love Star City, even though it's a radiated rubble.” She blew more smoke over the Atlantis night air. “I miss the market there, where people would come from outside and sell things like actual honey, even sometimes fresh fruit. I miss running the streets with Ollie, I miss watching the sunrise with Connor. It looks wrong to me, over all these perfectly tall buildings.”

“Where is Connor tonight anyway?” Jason asked and Mia just blew more smoke.

“You know,” she said. “Doing stuff.”

“Ah,” Jason said, snubbing out his cigarette.

“Want another?” she asked and Jason laughed as there was a sound at the stairs.

“Sure,” he said, holding his hand out as Dick came up the stairs, followed by Roy.

“Please tell me Ollie is still safely downstairs,” Mia said and Roy shook his head in despair.

“He'd kick your ass,” he warned. “Hell, I'm gonna kick your ass but much more nicely. But no, he's caught up downstairs. Dinah sent a package and he's combing through it. You know how he gets.”

“He barely gets to hear from her,” Mia said.

“Isn't that bad for you?” Dick asked, approaching Jason while Mia and Roy traded a few more comments back and forth.

In reply Jason blew smoke in his face. Coughing, Dick waved his hand and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, it's probably very bad for my lungs,” Jason said. “All things considered though, living a little is hardly something you could fault me with.”

“I'd rather you stay alive as long as possible,” Dick said and Jason stared at him, because to stare blankly was better then to show he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. As much from what Dick said as the fact Jason dared to actually look at him. 

Dick looked so beautiful in the electric lights. They were still cold but Dick was warm and the contrast made Jason's fingers itch with how much he wanted to reach out and touch. Just trace his fingers down Dick's cheek, tangle in his hair and it felt too daring to even fantasize in those moments about kissing Dick, about pressing their mouths together and taking Dick's air into his lungs, to feel the chapped warmth of his lips.

Even though it felt too daring, it wasn't like Jason hadn't actually dreamed about it.

“I'm pretty good at staying alive,” he said, laughing, because he had a lot of practice now at pretending every second he didn't want to reach out and tangle himself around Dick. “I'm good at a lot of things.”

And Dick smiled faintly. “Yes,” he said. “You're quite good at surviving out here. I,” and he paused. Jason wanted to sway forward and leaned back instead. “I probably wouldn't have,” Dick admitted. “Too used to surviving Gotham's streets, not this.”

“We'll get you back,” Jason said. He finally gave in, just enough to brush his fingers along Dick's cheek. “We'll get you home.”

“It's home for both of us,” Dick said and Jason could see Mia looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“It's your home,” he said with too much force behind it and Dick closed his eyes. “We'll get you back,” and he stomped down the stairs back inside, leaving Dick to the glow of the electric lights.

-0-

Steph was waiting outside the clinic for Tim. “I know you aren't really up for it,” Leslie had said the day before. “But you're stable and I need the beds.”

“I know,” Tim said and even scrounged up a smile for her. It surprised him he had been allowed to stay so long, and that more then anything told him how close to death he had been.

Now Steph leaned against her old car, a battered jeep that might have once been purple but now it was impossible to tell. “This is gonna hurt,” she said, watching Tim carefully maneuver with his crutches. Once she would have run to him, chided him into letting her help but now she knew better then to try. Tim's pride would probably kill him eventually but that day hadn't quite come yet.

“I know,” Tim said, mostly watching the rocky ground still.

“But hey, I guess we all do what we must,” Steph said as he finally reached her side. “Are you at least gonna let me help you into the car.”

Tim nodded, because he was out of breath already and aching. Closing her eyes a moment Steph reached out, holding his waist and helping him clamber up into the jeep. “Damn,” Tim muttered, settling back.

On the other side, Steph swung herself gracefully into the driver's seat, starting the old relic with an angry rumble. “There's a good girl,” she said to it before starting to inch through the battered and crumbling streets. Normally it was easier to get around Gotham by motorcycle but Steph was stubborn on the best of days, and today Tim couldn't have been on a bike if he had wished it with all his power.

“Thanks,” he rasped, after a particularly hard bump jarred everything trying to heal. “For coming and getting me.”

“Any time, baby,” she said casually and Tim had to look out what used to be a window. The glass had long since disappeared and there was a slight breeze. “So,” Steph said, as they continued to inch along. “You think I can remind Damian that we haven't been together since, oh, the early months when he got here?”

“What?” Tim's head came back around a little too fast.

“Damian,” Steph said. “He's an angry little shit, but lately he won't stop glaring at me. I'm starting to suspect an attack. You think it's because I saw him kissing you—which, by the way, what the hell—or because he's jealous we used to date?”

“I honestly couldn't tell you,” Tim said and sounded furious at himself for that, because he had spent too much time in the clinic staring at the ceiling and trying to parse out exactly what Damian had meant by kissing him. Damian had been back several times but nothing he said got Tim closer to an answer, and Damian did not do it again. Though Tim suspected it had more to do with the way Damian kept glancing at the door then because he didn't want to.

Which only confused Tim more.

Steph glanced at him sideways, and grinned. “You are totally screwed, huh?” she said.

“Please be quiet,” Tim settled for finally. “I really don't want to think about it.”

“You realize you're moving back in with him and his dad right?” Steph asked and Tim stared at her until she laughed again.

“I suppose I shall figure things out as they go,” Tim said finally.

“Right,” Steph said, schooling her face into a more serious expression. “I haven't told anyone, you know,” she added. “Uh, except Cass,” and Tim froze completely.

There were two people that Cassandra Cain honestly cared about in the whole world as far as Tim could tell: Bruce and Steph. He figured he was a blip on her radar because both those people seemed to care a lot for him in turn, and he was an important ally. Dick and Damian were under her protection for more or less the same reasons.

But if Steph told Cass it was that much closer to being told to Bruce.

“Why did you tell Cass?” he managed over his panic.

“Because I tell her everything,” Steph said. “And I had been wondering if she had any ideas of what the hell was going on with Damian. She didn't, by the way. Or at least she wouldn't tell me what her ideas were.”

“Ah,” Tim said because they had finally reached the old city hall and Damian and Bruce were waiting for him. He felt a tiny glow in his breastbone, because no matter how often he told himself he was cared for, seeing it in front of him was something different.

The only thing missing was Dick standing there, leaning against the pillar and grinning. Jason, even if he had been in Gotham would have been hiding somewhere on the roof, unseen but there.

But they were both gone.

And Tim honestly still had no idea what to do with Damian, when he stepped forward and helped Tim down from the jeep before pulling his crutches out and handing them to him. “Welcome back, Drake,” Damian said, his voice totally level and Tim swallowed hard.

“Thanks,” he said, and Bruce was still standing shock still by the door, but he relaxed when he saw Tim walking toward him.

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice a warm rumble and Tim wanted to throw himself against Bruce, feel those strong arms hold him and pretend everything was safe and okay for just a moment. Instead he smiled instead, and gave Bruce a sloppy salute he had picked up from Dick a long time ago.

“Good to be back,” he said.

-0-

“The markets are closed,” Ollie had insisted, fifteen times that morning before Dick and Jason left. “Wouldn't it be better to lay low this week?”

“That's too long,” Dick had said, and since he only got to make demands inside the house anymore, Jason had allowed him this one: To go out and at least see if they could find anything. They were both restless and desperate to find a way out the doors.

Except once they were out, Dick started to realize what a mistake it was, because people were staring at him everywhere they went, as he clung to Jason's back, and walked through the empty market. “Is it always this bad?” he asked, their heads ducked together as they walked through what seemed like an empty street. “I know you said it might be, but--" 

“No, this is the worst,” Jason said. “Atlantis is, uh, known for it's exquisite taste in pleasure slaves. It's big business here.”

“You could have at least told me it was mostly Atlantis,” Dick said, Jason's hand warm and heavy on his waist.

“Metropolis, Central City, hell even Star City before, they all have their slavers too,” Jason said. “Everywhere does. You're just the worst off here.”

Dick ducked his head and bit back his next comment as someone passed them going the other way. He nuzzled closer into Jason's side, refusing to reflect on what he was doing. Jason's fingers tightened, pressing against the fabric over his hip and Dick kept breathing evenly through sheer force of will.

“They're right,” he said, finally. “The markets really are closed.”

“Totally closed,” Jason said and stopped, because there was a gang of people in front of them, all leering. “Shit,” Jason said, Dick's eyes flickering up and then back down as the ring leader started approaching them. “I don't like this and I swear to god if anyone challenges me on you I'm going to fucking hurt someone...”

“Try not to,” Dick said quietly, trying to press closer to Jason as he dropped his eyes.

“Fine,” Jason said after a beat. “For you, babe,” and Dick pressed his eyes closed as if that would possibly block out what Jason said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason /focus/


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up, wrote half this chapter, went to work, wrote the other half of this chapter, and am now going to bed. It's been a weird day. (I was actually really worried I wouldn't be able to update today at all and am thus pleasantly surprised this is happening at all)

“Can I help you, gents?” Jason asked, brazen as they approached.

“Interesting, to see new faces,” the woman in front of the group said, her head tilted to one side. Dick's eyes scanned the group as covertly as possible, pinpointing who would be the most dangerous and who was probably bluffing.

“Atlantis is a pretty big town,” Jason said, his arm still casually around Dick's waist, every single motion of his body language screaming possession and Dick's chest hurt if he dwelt on that.

His eyes stopped a man behind all the others. Whereas most of the group was collected in front of them, leaning forward to get a better look, he stood alone in the back, arms crossed and a smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall. Dick accidentally found himself staring full on at the man as Jason and the woman exchanged a few more barbed pleasantries.

“But where did you find one like that?” the woman asked, leaning forward. “I'm certain he's not from Atlantis and I'd love to hear where he came from,” and she was practically purring looking at Dick. He did not startle, even as his eyes snapped back over to the conversation right in front of them. “After all, I'm sure a lot of people would be interested.”

Jason's smile was strained and Dick rested his hand on the small of his back because he had to move somehow, and he worried about what Jason might do. “Too bad,” Jason said. “Pretty sure he's one of a kind.”

“No family?” she asked, her dark hair wild around her face and Dick focused on breathing easily instead of showing the pain that statement caused.

“None alive,” Jason said, because they were talking about genetics and the way Dick looked, not the people he loved and fought for.

“Too bad,” she said, and Dick eyed the spread of her gang, because while before they had been clustered behind her, now they were spreading out slightly. His fingers tightened on Jason's jacket, yanking slightly to warn him. Jason snapped his eyes away from the staring contest with the woman to focus more generally.

“Well, it's been great talking,” Jason said, too abruptly and Dick wanted to close his eyes and groan. “But we have other places to be.”

“Do you?” she drawled and a slighter man, shorter even then Dick was there beside him, reaching a hand up and grabbing his chin.

“You aren't willing to share, are you?” he asked and Dick couldn't keep his eyes from widening in alarm and half panic, even as Jason yanked him back and away from the man. “I'll pay you, it's not like that's an issue, I know the rules.”

“No,” Jason snarled and Dick couldn't look straight at him so he started scanning the crowd again, seeing the restlessness. “He's _mine_ and no one else touches him.”

So much for keeping his breathing under control, Dick thought idly as his heart hammered in his chest. Pressed against Jason's side so tightly, he wondered if Jason could hear it.

“What about a show?” the woman asked, her chin resting on her folded hands, elbows propped up on her knees from where she has pulled herself up to sit on one of the abandoned market stalls. “Or does even the _sight_ of him in pleasure belong only to you?”

“Yeah, it does,” Jason snapped.

“How darlingly possessive of you. Does that get you more hot and bothered or him?” she asked, starting to wave one land lazily in front of her. “I mean, considering the way he's hanging off you, he could be rather sad to lose his master, wouldn't he? How do you convince a slave to be that loyal anyway? Or do you think it's an act—” And Dick wanted to scream because it was an act, but there was no way she could have known that—“And will he be quite willing to jump ship to the person who takes you down?”

“Is that a threat?” Jason asked, his voice having dropped and Dick was counting how many people were in front of them—at least a dozen—and while he usually would say he and Damian would have been able to take that many down, he had no idea about him and Jason.

Especially if he wasn't supposed to fight.

“Jason,” he breathed, pressing his mouth against his ear, standing on his toes and pressing himself full length against Jason. He did not think about the extra twist he put into the motion, the sensual glide of sliding up Jason's body. “Remember, we have somewhere to be.”

Jason had stopped breathing, and Dick could feel his pulse jack up. “Right,” he said and Dick settled back on his heels. “Well, this has been charming—”

“You can't be thinking of leaving this soon,” she said and moved faster then Dick expected considering her completely casual pose, grabbing Dick's chin and yanking him forward. “After all, I'd love to hear him say why he's so devoted to you. I mean, if he is.”

“It's not your concern,” Dick said, his voice scarily level considering. “I belong to him,” and it felt like ice in his veins to say that so casually and not mean it.

“Ah, how adorable,” she said, fingers still on Dick's chin and Jason physically hauled her back, leaving Dick standing alone with all the others when Jason punched her in the face.

She instantly lashed out with a kick to his stomach and he rolled with it, driving his shoulder into her chest and almost flipping her over. She used the momentum to instead twist and flip up over his back, dragging him to the ground with the weight of her as an arrow suddenly shot over, going through the shoulder of her shirt.

She and Jason froze, and she turned first. “Ah, the old fashioned brigade has finally shown their faces. Or, rather, one of them,” and a blond man Dick didn't recognize was standing there, holding a bow and with a large satchel slung over his chest. “How's Harper doing?”

The man seemed to ignore her, focusing on Jason. “There you are,” he said. “I was wondering why you were late. Jade, if you don't mind?”

And Jade was moving, off Jason and suddenly in front of the blond. “Connor,” she said, voice low. “Connor Hawke, supposed do gooder in a lawless land and kidnapper. Where is she?”

Connor held the bow in front of him, keeping the tip between himself and Jade so if she pressed any closer he would be able to use it to push her back again. “Safe,” he said. “Isn't that what you wanted to?”

“Not at the expense of ever seeing her again,” she snarled and then her face fell back into it's more neutral expression. “Besides, you never told me how Harper is.”

“Drop by some time and see for yourself,” Connor said. “Todd, we're late.”

“Doing things for the resistance?” Jade purred.

“No,” Connor said, eyes narrowed at her. “Only fools would be associated with something like that.”

“And your family aren't fools,” she said, almost teasing except for the bitter and dark edge to her voice.

“No,” Connor agreed and Jason was back at Dick's side, wrapping his arm around him again and heading quickly for Connor, who didn't say anything in parting to Jade.

As they walked, Dick couldn't help but look over his shoulder, seeing Jade standing there, fury in the posture of her shoulders and the man from before still leaning against the wall and smiling, his single eye trained on them as they left.

“Connor, have I never been happier to see you,” Jason said. “By the way, Dick, this is Connor Hawke, Ollie's kid. Connor, this is Dick.”

“I figure we'll be able to talk more at home?” Connor said with a wry twist of his mouth and Dick recognized the way he was scanning the streets.

“Oh yeah,” Jason said. “Going out today was probably a mistake.”

“Sorry,” Dick said, tiny and quiet and Jason jostled their shoulders together.

“We needed to know what it was like out here,” he said. “What did she mean, anyway, about a kidnapping?” he asked, turning back to Connor.

“Ah,” Connor said after a pause where it seemed like he was trying to decide if he was going to react at all or not. “Her daughter.”

Jason stumbled. “You kidnapped someone's _daughter_?”

Connor's eyes slid over to him and Dick had tensed. “Yes,” Connor said.

“Any particular reason?” Jason asked, voice tight.

“Yes,” Connor repeated. “She's Roy's daughter too,” and Jason gaped at him.

-0-

Damian sat on Tim's mat, watching him stretch. “I'm fairly certain you are not supposed to be doing that, Drake,” he remarked, voice mild.

Tim narrowed his eyes at him and kept going.

“I'm serious, Drake, considering your injuries,” Damian said. “I cannot tell you who would be madder at you for having to go back to the clinic.”

“Is yourself included in that list?” Tim asked.

Damian considered. “No.”

That caused Tim to pause, and he looked up. “No? You kissed me.”

“Why do you say that as if it's a good luck charm?” Damian asked. “As if it's a totem: You kissed me so you would be mad if you reopened your injuries.”

“You were mad at me for getting them in the first place,” Tim said and hated that he felt winded, so he carefully let himself back down on the mat beside Damian, curling up against his knees.

“That was when you nearly got killed,” Damian said. “Regressing your own healing process is something different.”

“Really?” Tim asked, looking at him sideways and Damian clicked his tongue, making a unsatisfied sound. “So as long as I'm not in danger of dying you don't care about me?”

“Have I—” Damian started and paused, making the “tt” sound again. “Alright, I do care about you, to some extent. Though, it honestly has nothing to do with you.”

Tim tried not to stare at him too hard. “Excuse me?”

“I clearly am refocusing my affection for Grayson on the nearest available person,” Damian said. “I will get over it in time. Things have been tense, but I do not really care for you, personally, as much as your proximity.”

Tim could not stop his jaw from dropping. “Excuse me?” he repeated. 

“What part of that was difficult to understand?” Damian asked, not quite looking at him.

Raking his hands through his hair, Tim twisted, one of his hands resting dangerously close to Damian's knee. “You _kissed_ me.”

“Because you were in proximity and had,” Damian's face twisted. “Done a service for me.”

“You kissed me,” Tim repeated, leaning closer and he could see the way Damian's pupils were widening, see the small hitch in his throat that he kept mostly silent. “Proximity or not, you wanted me and you kissed me.”

“You don't have to like people to kiss them,” Damian said and Tim couldn't help the smile that curled his mouth.

“No,” he agreed and closed the tiny distance he had left between them, clumsily pressing his mouth against Damian's and swallowing his surprised gasp. When Damian shifted against him he drew back and Damian blinked. “You don't have to like someone to kiss them.”

This time Damian grabbed his hair and dragged him forward, slamming their mouths together, teeth clanking and it was Tim's turn to gasp, Damian's fingers warm against his scalp. Even as Tim pressed forward, feeling languid and almost feline in the way they were bumping their mouths together, he also was cataloging every reaction Damian gave him, every swallowed sound and tiny motion, as well as the way it made him feel.

He wasn't sure what for, but he was already storing information on the way his fingers ached, which tilts of Damian's head made his breath stutter in his lungs, and the way he bit the bottom of Damian's lip to get him to shove forward, almost crawled in top of Tim's legs.

“Ow,” Tim managed finally, jerking back.

“What?” Damian blinked and realized what he did, instantly scooting back.

They stared at each other a moment, and Tim cataloged the way Damian's mouth was red and just a little puffy.

“So we don't like each other,” Damian said after a beat.

“Not really,” Tim agreed.

“But kissing,” Damian started.

“Yeah,” Tim said too fast because he already wanted to sag forward and press himself against Damian's chest, mouth his pulse point and see what other reactions he could get.

Taking that under consideration Damian nodded and half turned away and Tim didn't try and turn him back. For a moment they sat together in silence and it was the most companionable Tim remembered them ever being.

“What happened,” Tim asked finally, because it had been bothering him. “To the Joker?”

Damian's head turned back to him, and he was frowning. “I know the mood was over,” he said. “But we were kissing a few minutes ago.”

“So?” Tim asked.

Damian's eyes bore into him before he shrugged. “Fair,” he said. “I suppose. He is being held in this building.”

Tim tensed all over. “What?” he managed, feeling like his throat was closing up.

“After what happened, father broke his legs,” Damian said, staring at the far wall instead of Tim. “He's held upstairs now. Barbara is helping to guard him. As we all are, in turns. I'm not sure if this is a permanent solution yet or not.”

A fine tremor went all through Tim. “He's in this building?” he asked. “And no one told me? No one thought to tell me?”

“I think they wanted to protect you,” Damian shrugged.

“But you don't,” Tim snapped.

“Didn't we just cover that we are not friends?” Damian asked. “I answered because you asked and I do not believe coddling you to have you find out later would improve things at all.”

Swallowing, Tim looked at the wall too. “You said Bruce broke his legs?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” Damian said.

“There's no way Harley is going to just allow us to keep him,” Tim said.

“Probably not,” Damian agreed and Tim looked back over when Damian's hand landed on his leg. “Don't think about it,” he said, eyes intent on Tim's face.

“How can I not?” Tim asked and Damian tilted forward. Somehow, despite everything that had just happened, Tim was surprised when he kissed him, his mouth dry and hot and Tim decided this was exactly the right kind of distraction.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole time I was writing the Dick and Jason scene this chapter, my cat kept waking up from his nap and looking over his shoulder at me with this really accusatory expression on his face. I think it was because I was typing instead of petting him but I kept wanting to whisper "I'm sorry, it's not my fault they're such idiots."
> 
> The em dash has never been as abused in my writing as in this story.

The moment the door was closed, Jason stomped up the stairs. For a moment Dick looked after him in confusion before he spared a glance for Ollie, who was hugging Connor tight around the middle, and then followed. He found Jason leaning out the window of Connor's room, cigarette clenched in his teeth.

“If he's back tonight, I suppose that means we'll have to find somewhere else to sleep,” Dick said, because it had been the first time they had both slept through the night without taking turns at watch, and he hadn't noticed the fact they'd fallen asleep in the same bed until he woke up, wrapped around Jason's middle, his head on his arm and their legs tangled together.

He had taken too long to become aware of the situation after waking up and by the time he had slipped out of the bed and Jason was awake, he had no idea if Jason had woken up when they were smashed together or when he had been pulling back. He did not want to ask.

“Probably down in the kitchen or something,” Jason said, not looking at him.

“Hardly the worst place we've ever slept, or even in the last week,” Dick said. When Jason still did not turn around to look at him, Dick scowled. “You know, I expected to be the surly one, what's gotten you worked up?”

“Aren't you worked up too?” Jason asked, tone mild and Dick's scowl deepened.

“Yes, but I'm not pouting like you are either.”

“I am not pouting,” Jason said, crushing the cigarette against the side of the window, turning toward Dick and if he had pulled that one anyone else, it would have been intimidating.

“Then what's wrong?” Dick asked, standing firm.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Didn't you hear them? They wanted to buy a night with you off me.”

“Yes,” Dick said, voice still level through sheer force of will. “I heard that. I thought the whole act was to avoid that. Considering everything, I'm not surprised, why are you acting like you are?”

“I'm not surprised,” Jason said. “But I don't like—” He stopped, shaking his head.

“Then get over it,” Dick said when it looked like Jason wasn't going to continue. “Whatever the hell your problem is, get over it. Because we're stuck here for now, and it's likely we're going to hear things like that a lot more, and,” Dick's facade cracked for a moment before he drew himself back up. “Thank you, for not even for a second pretending like you might go along with something like that.”

Jason stared at him. “Why the _fuck_ would I even pretend to go along with something like that?”

“I don't know,” Dick whispered. “It would probably have made them like you more? But you didn't.”

For a long moment Jason just kept staring at him and Dick wanted to fidget, wanted to move and possibly back flip down the stairs just to keep going, but he held himself still under Jason's gaze. “Yeah,” Jason finally said. “Don't get misty eyed because I didn't sell your fucking body to the highest bidder.”

A curl of anger warmed Dick's chest and he took a step forward. “Are you done?”

“Done with what?” Jason asked, idle.

Dick shook his head rather then repeat himself. “Actually, if you want to stay in a snit, I can be somewhere else,” and he half turned for the door when Jason moved, yanking his arm back.

“They wanted to _buy_ you, Dick,” Jason said. “And I looked like the master willing to sell.”

Dick blinked, and had to blink again just to make sure he had heard right. “You're bothered,” he started slowly. “Because they thought you would share your slave for the right price?” When Jason's face pinched, Dick wanted to laugh but managed not to. “God,” he whispered. “For everything you've said, every time you said you rejected Bruce and everything he ever stood for, you're not that far off, are you?”

“Excuse me?” Jason asked, voice dropping.

“You have been yelling from every damn rooftop you can find that you don't believe in Bruce anymore, or any of his morality,” Dick said. “Except—in most of the ways that matter—you still care about people. You were offended people thought you would sell me and you say you don't give a damn about Gotham or his ideals?”

Jason's shoulders had knotted into one long line of tension. “I _don't_.”

“You still care about people,” Dick said, taking a step forward because he had been wary of Jason for months and years and it felt like a revelation he should have had a long time ago.

“I'll still kill them,” Jason snarled. “That goes against dear _Bruce's_ ideals.”

“Yes,” Dick agreed softly. “But not all of them. You're still—”

“You're assuming an awful lot—” Jason broke in and they were talking over each other.

“—One of us—”

“—Maybe I don't give a damn about people—” Jason said, voice raising.

“—You've never stopped—”

“—Maybe I just care about _you!_ ”

Dick froze and Jason was staring at him with angry eyes. “What?” he asked, clearing his suddenly dry throat.

“You make it like I care about everyone still, like I want to make the world a better place,” Jason said, voice dangerously low now. “Like I still follow along Bruce's heels like a fucking dog. You're acting surprised I care—but Dick I went out into the fucking desert to save your sorry kidnapped ass. When no one followed me, when no one came after me, I came after _you_ and you're acting shocked now that I want to still protect you. You're so damned thrown by this you have to insist I still give a damn about people and this world. Instead of just accepting the more obvious answer to anyone else in the world! I don't care about them I care about _you_.”

Mouth hanging open, Dick stared at him for a moment too long and Jason looked away.

“God damn it, Dick, why is that a surprise?”

“I'm going to have to remind you,” Dick said finally. “The first thing you did when you came back to Gotham was attack me with a gun.”

Jason looked away. “Yeah,” he said gruffly.

“You've been alternating between attacking us and helping us for—years! You've specifically avoided talking to me for most of that time, and—”

“Do you remember when I asked you to come with me?” Jason asked, not looking at him.

“Yes,” Dick said. “You kicked me while I was down, and then never, never,” and he stopped, his chest too tight to breath. “Jason,” he whispered because he had nothing else he could say.

“Yeah, well, why else do you think the first thing I did was run off into the desert after you?”

“Your own pride,” Dick admitted, voice still too low and Jason closed his eyes, pain flashing across his face.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked. “No wonder you're surprised.”

“No, it,” Dick started, reaching forward and for a foolish second he thought if he could touch Jason he could make him understand. Except the door opened, and Connor and Roy stood on the other side. Dick dropped his hand instantly. “Do you want us out of the room?” he asked, voice flat and like nothing had been happening.

“No, not yet,” Connor said. “Mostly we were inviting you to dinner, if you wanted to brave Ollie's cooking.”

“Not that you have much of a choice mind,” Roy added. “Just be prepared not to feel your tastebuds for a while or something.”

“Great,” Jason said, skirting around Dick to get to the door and for a moment Dick just stared at the feet of space Jason had left between them before following.

-0-

Tim stood in the doorway of Bruce's office, trying not to shift or sag because he still ached all over and wanted more then anything to curl back in bed. And yet here he stood.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Bruce asked, and Cass was giving him a knowing look from where she sprawled over a half broken wall behind Bruce's head. There was a book in front of her, frayed and a little burned around the edges and Tim could see her finger resting on a word. She slowly traced each word as she read, struggling to put the letters together and Tim had spent a lot of time watching her do that.

“I just,” Tim said because as much as he wished he could just sit at Bruce's feet like he sometimes had seen Dick do, working on whatever they each had to occupy themselves, he always went to Bruce's space with a purpose. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Damian told me,” he said. “About the Joker, being here.”

Bruce's eyes, which had been looking in his direction, snapped to his face, and even though he loved Bruce, so much it made him feel too big for his own skin, every time they made direct eye contact he still wanted to hide. “And?” Bruce asked.

“Why?” Tim said. “Why is he here, what is trapping him going to do? And, I heard—” He paused again. “You said you were going to break his legs so he could never move from here again. That's not how you usually... handle things.”

“I decided against breaking his legs,” Bruce said after a beat. “It would be much more symmetrical to break his spine, wouldn't it?”

“You,” Tim stared. “You haven't, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce admitted and Cass was looking between Bruce's shoulder and Tim's face, and Tim wondered what exactly she was trying to tell him.

“Why now?” Tim asked after he pressed his reaction down far enough he could keep breathing. “He's always been mad and violent but you let him, you let him get away with questioning and fighting you for years, you have with all of them.”

“Because he's taken two of my children from me,” Bruce said and it still made something twist up and scream in Tim to be counted among one of Bruce's children. It was one thing to be mockingly called one of Wayne's Boys on the street, with Dick smiling and dark beside him, and another to have Bruce himself lay claim on him as family. “And he tried to take two more on the same night.”

“Damian and I are fine,” Tim said. “Jason is still alive—”

“You're right,” Bruce said and his eyes were dark and bottomless. “He did not kill Jason. But nonetheless he took him him from me. He turned that boy against me and while...” Bruce stopped and that alone felt too huge of a moment for anyone else to walk in on. “Because Jason has never come back to me.”

“You said two,” Tim said after a moment. “Dick could still be alive.”

And it was a hole in him, not knowing.

Bruce dipped his chin down and Tim clenched his hands tight instead of shaking. “Yes,” he said, slowly. “He could still be alive.”

“Jason went after him,” Tim said. “He went after him, to find and save him.” He realized he might have never told Bruce. In the panic and the haze of pain he honestly could not remember but even if he had, it seemed relevant to remind him. “They could be coming back right now—”

“Could be,” Bruce agreed. “If Jason had any chance at all of finding him in the desert. If those guarding Dick didn't kill him. If any of the leagues didn't get him, or them. Even if they found each other, they should have not gotten so far they would not have returned—”

“So you've just given up?” Tim asked. “You think he, that they're both, probably dead?”

“It is easier to accept that the worst has probably come to pass then live in constantly painful hope,” Bruce said.

“No!” and Tim was yelling, like he almost never did. “I will not accept that until we know.”

“We will probably never know if they died because there will never be a way to find out,” Bruce said and their eyes were meeting again but Tim blazed through the quiver in his spine.

“I don't care, because if that's the case I will keep hoping until I die they may come back,” Tim said. “I refuse to accept that he's dead—that they're dead.”

“You will waste candles, lighting them every night in the window,” Bruce said and Tim twitched, because Dick had told him that story, an old faded story book on his lap. About widows lighting candles in the window, hoping to call their sailor's home from the ocean. Bruce, he realized, had probably been listening, or Dick had told him the story separately, excited and in love with the romanticism of the past.

“Then they'll burn,” Tim said, slowly. “And I will _waste_ as many as it takes.”

When he left, he realized there had been no resolution on the Joker sitting upstairs and laughing at them all.

-0-

Dick sat on the windowsill, watching the parade slink along the streets below. Every house on the street, including their own, had banners hanging from the windows, and Mia sat on the other side of the sill, Roy standing in the middle. Ollie and Connor were in the door and Dick had no idea where Jason was.

“Thank god,” Mia said. “This week is finally over.”

“What, exactly, is going on?” Dick asked, because this was a display of wealth he had no concept of how to absorb.

“The prince's birthday,” Roy said. “BM's only son, blah blah, coming of age. Now that the celebration is finally officially going, it means the markets will open up again and the city will come back to life.”

“Will the gates be open?” Dick asked, leaning over his knee and wrapping his arms around it.

“Probably not,” Roy said. “But with the stuff you need, it might not be so difficult to sneak you out.”

“Oh,” Dick said, listening to the thin trumpets go off below in the street. People were throwing strips of old rags, worn to the bone and unable to be used for anything else, and fake petals down on the parade. Once it might have been flowers and confetti but now people tried to show celebration with what they had. “So you think we will have to sneak out.”

“Think?” Roy asked. “I'm almost totally certain it will be the case.”

“As long as we get out,” Dick said, looking vaguely into the distance.

“So, you have no interest in staying then?” Roy asked. “Fighting the good fight or whatever we tell ourselves we're doing? You just are like Jason, needing to get out and keep moving?”

“I need to get back to Gotham,” Dick said.

“Why?” Mia asked, and even Roy looked interested and Dick turned from the parade to stare at them. He had never realized or suspected for a moment they had no idea who he was, or that Jason had not told them about both of their relationships to Bruce Wayne.

“What?” he asked.

“Can't Gotham get on without you?” Mia asked. “Sometimes you act like it can't.”

If Jason had been that cautious, Dick decided to keep playing along. “Perhaps,” he said. “But it's home, no matter it's flaws and I want to return.”

Roy looked like he wanted to keep pressing, but Dick turned his head back out over the parade, his gaze stopping on the same man he had seen at the markets, who stood directly across the street from Ollie's house. Dick blinked, glancing around the window and then down the front of the house, wondering if something was wrong with their banners. When he looked back out over at the man, he realized he was the one being stared at when their eyes met and the man slowly smiled.

Eyes widening, Dick wanted to jerk back and away from that stare. Instead he narrowed his eyes, only making the strange man smile more.

“Roy,” he said, not looking away.

“Yeah?” Roy asked, and Mia was paying attention to both of them again.

“Or Mia, to be honest,” Dick said. “That man across the street. Do you know him?”

“Which man?” Mia asked, “There are a lot,” and she stopped, grabbing Roy's wrist. “The one with the eye patch and white hair?”

“Yeah,” Dick said.

“Yes,” Roy said. “We do.”

“I've seen him before,” Dick said.

He could feel Roy's tension at his shoulder. “When you ran into Jade's gang?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, and he had still not broken eye contact. “He was watching me then too.”

“Fuck,” Roy said suddenly and grabbed Dick's shoulder, dragging him back. “We didn't think—you have to get away from the window. He's—anyone's—gonna think—”  
  
Dick dropped into a roll, moving away from the window and resting his back against the wall, where he could not be seen. “Fuck,” he said viciously.

“Your cover,” Roy added lamely, as if everyone had not already pieced that together. 

“It's possible nothing will happen,” Mia said and Dick almost wanted to thank her for lying. “With Wilson, you just never know.” 

“But I assume we'll find out,” Dick said and Mia nodded, tight lipped.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I'm really tired I apparently find it easiest to write very Dick centric chapters.

The bandages had come off Dick's wrists at last, though his shoulder and bicep still ached from the stab wounds. However, he pushed himself over into a handstand, because he was losing his mind inside the walls of the house. Quivering, his muscles protested and he tried walking forward on his hands before his arm protested too much.

Lifting that arm, he balanced on his uninjured arm, held in perfect alignment to stay up.

“Wow,” Roy said and Dick startled, falling over and catching himself into a graceful roll only from long practical. “Whoa, that might have been even more impressive,” Roy said, and grinned at him as Dick dusted himself off.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Well, I was going to start dinner,” Roy said, gesturing to where Dick had been between him and the kitchen. “Wanna help?”

“I'm actually really unimpressive when it comes to cooking,” Dick admitted, but followed him into the kitchen anyway.

“Pretty impressive with the handstands though,” Roy said, and looked at where his wrists were still red and raw looking. “How's your body holding up?”

“It's been through worse,” Dick said and Roy started at him before he pulled down spices and a wrapped stale loaf of bread.

“I can't tell if I want to over use impressive or wonder what the hell your life has been,” Roy said and Dick looked away.

A while later they had the start of something passing for a meal between them. “Ollie is going to complain,” Roy said. “But he'll eat it anyway so just ignore it.”

“He's very particular,” Dick said. “About food.”

“And sex,” Roy said, casually and Dick's mouth twisted. “You're not so fond of that word right now are you?”

“I usually am more,” Dick said. “But at the moment, no.”

Roy inclined his head. “Well, as we said, the markets will be open again tomorrow. Can get you your supplies then.”

“I know it's a dangerous game to even leave,” Dick said. “But there is no way I can stay in here another day.”

Roy hid a smile by looking down. “Yeah. I'm pretty sure Connor is gonna offer to teach you how to meditate tonight because watching you pace around like a caged animal has been wearing a little thin.”

“Sorry,” Dick said, too bitter to be totally sincere and Roy gave him a tiny smile.

“Eh, it's fine. You should see Mia when she's injured. She wants to knock the house down.”

Dick focused too hard on the strips of dried meat he was cutting, Roy standing over the fire stove.

“You know, I've been wondering,” Roy said and Dick dared to look over. “You're from Gotham, right? And we're floundering around out here, trying to fight the warlords and the system that got set up those couple generations ago. But Gotham has won that fight, more then any other city out here.”

“It's not always that much of a victory,” Dick said, looking down. “The conditions are—worse.”

“Okay, but you never had slavers come after you, right?” Roy asked and Dick cut a strip of meat viciously. “Right. And a lot of that is because of Bruce Wayne. He's like a damn folk hero out here. Did you ever met him, back in Gotham?”

Dick couldn't breathe and he set the knife down with a clatter.

“Dick?” Roy asked, cautious too late.

“Yes,” Dick said, and he ached for how much he missed Bruce, a myth to the people outside of Gotham, but a real warm human to Dick, who had reached out and gathered Dick to him and held on through all the dark years.

Bruce who had trained him hard enough to almost break him, but who gathered him into his arms and held on while Dick gasped after a nightmare. Who had been serious and heavy handed, and yet smiled at Dick, as if the smile was a secret between them and who took more and more of the lost children of Gotham to him, saving them as much as they saved him. Who Dick loved and adored more then anyone else in the world.

He wondered if Bruce thought he was dead yet. It was a clock ticking in the back of his head, to get back to Bruce before he fell down too far.

“You okay?” Roy asked and Dick's fingers convulsed on the knife.

“No,” Dick said.

“So, is he not much liked in Gotham itself, or something?”

“No,” Dick said, and his hand twitched again. “Not by most. He's tolerated and hated and loved but the majority, it's,” he floundered. “It's complicated. Every night,” and he had to close his eyes.

“And you,” Roy said, and when Dick opened his eyes he could see Roy leaning slightly forward, closer to him. “And him?”

There were nights Dick remembered, full of fire and pain, and others where Bruce would let Dick curl in his lap and haltingly read out loud to Bruce, often until he could feel Bruce's breathing even out into sleep. Dick would blow out the candle and fall asleep against him there. Most mornings, Alfred would have draped a blanket over both of them, before the others had come, before Jason with his loud voice and boisterous presence, and quiet but vicious Tim with Steph who smiled almost as much as Dick and had no time for anyone hiding, and Barbara who danced with him across the roof tops of Gotham until she didn't, and even quieter Cass with her shadows and mute voice they had taken months to draw out of her.

But even with the others it had been him and Bruce at the center of it all and Dick felt his spine curl. “He raised me,” he said, more to the knife and meat in front of him then Roy.

“Holy,” Roy started and cut his shock off. Dick had never been so thankful. “So, when you say you want to get back to Gotham—”

“Yes,” Dick said, because it was about protecting his city, and it was about Bruce, and it was about being home, and it was about Tim and Damian and Barbara and everyone else he dared to love too much.

“Jason never told us,” Roy said. “He won't talk much about Gotham, except to say how horrible it is there, and how much he doesn't miss it, even though it's obvious he does. He tends to walk out when Bruce is mentioned.”

“He tends to physically walk out on Bruce too,” Dick said. “They,” and he stopped because if Jason did not want to talk about it, then Dick wouldn't.

“Damn,” Roy breathed. “I mean, I'm not kidding, about how much people talk about Bruce Wayne out here. He's the patron saint of every resistance out there, the man who wrestled his city away from the warlords and saved his people, the one who proved it could be done, for fifteen long years.”

“They have been very long years,” Dick said.

“But it can be done,” Roy said, and he rested his hand on Dick's, making Dick startle and look up at him. “Do you have any idea what that means to us?”

“No,” Dick admitted because he never had.

“Will you tell me more about him?” Roy asked, eyes intent.

“I can try,” Dick said and Roy's hand was warm and calloused against the back of his own and Dick swallowed. “But I'm not sure if,” and Roy pressed his hand down harder.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Whatever you can do.”

“I'm not some wounded animal,” Dick said, his brows drawing together and Roy laughed, finally taking his hand back.

“Sometimes you act like you might be,” Roy said and Dick looked over at the sound of movement in the door to see Jason standing there, looking thunderous.

“Hey,” Roy said, easily and Dick kept frowning at Jason. “Dinner's almost ready.”

“Good,” Jason said and Dick dumped his strips of meat into what Roy was working on, walking over to where Jason stood, following him when he stomped into the front room.

“Something wrong?” Dick asked, casually because Jason wasn't acting casual at all.

“No,” Jason said, promptly followed by, “You seem friendly with Roy.”

“I like him,” Dick said.

“Really?” Jason snorted. “He doesn't seem your type.”

“Doesn't he?” Dick said. “I like a lot of people. Besides, he reminds me of you,” and he slid past Jason up the stairs to tell Mia that food was warm and ready. He refused to dwell on the anger in Jason's expression that looked an awful lot like jealousy. 

-0-

Ollie had been the only one to protest when Dick showed up at the front door as they went to the market. “It's dangerous,” he said.

“So, presumably, is insanity,” Dick said and Ollie had shrugged.

The markets looked different, with people bustling and furiously buying and selling after a week of imposed stillness. The celebrations had only geared up with the parade and were now starting to take off.

Dick pressed against Jason's side, moving with him and Jason idly kept stroking his side. “I trust you know what you need to find?” Dick asked, nuzzling against Jason's ear to hide what he was saying.

“Pretty sure,” Jason said, using his free hand to poke around one of the stalls. Dick slid his hand across the table, stopping at a few items for the briefest pause, feeling Jason tap Morse Code replies into the skin at his waist.

At one point, Dick thought he saw Jade and her gang heading the other way, and Roy had briefly disappeared, Connor holding his ground beside them. Mia was somewhere else in the market, keeping an eye on them for a distance.

“Do you want something to dress your boy up in?” the stall keeper in front of them asked, and Dick's eyes widened as he looked at the gauze and ribbons on the table.

“Nah, I like him as he is,” Jason said, yanking Dick harder against him.

“He won't attract much attention like that,” the stall keeper said. “You aren't showing him off right,” and Jason stomped away, dragging Dick with him.

“If you act this moody,” Dick started and Jason's fingers pressed down hard enough on his hipbone Dick hissed. “You're drawing more attention to us.”

“Sorry,” Jason said and for a while they walked in silence, Connor and Ollie more or less behind them.

“Compass,” Dick tapped into Jason's shoulder blade.

“Weapons,” Jason tapped back and Dick's brows twitched together as Jason pulled him to another stall, full of knives and guns. “Knives would be good for you,” Jason tapped and Dick tried to keep his expression neutral as Jason finally pulled away from him enough to pick up a gun, considering it.

Standing alone, Dick looked around the market, Ollie and Jason in a quiet but intense conversation with the store keeper, Roy off a few stalls down, and Connor had his head tilted the other way.

Dick breathed for a moment, trying not to focus on how many people were there, how many strange and unknown people and instead focus on being outside again, and for the brief moment free.

Until an arm wrapped around his waist and a hand covered his mouth, yanking his backward.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So either cliffhangers really work or someone recced this fic recently? (I am /not/ complaining, please talk to me more)
> 
> Non-consensual groping happens.

Dick was shoved against the smooth dark wall, hand still covering his mouth, in the shadows off the main market. Struggling, he twisted, trying to break the hold on him.

“You're not very docile are you?” a deep and amused voice asked and Dick froze, the sun above filtering through the shadows to where they were and he finally focused enough to see the face of the man who had been starring at him from across the street. “Funny, considering your supposed status.”

“It's not supposed,” Dick said, trying to drop his eyes and stop struggling.

Except that only got him a hard punch across his cheekbone, turning his head as he twitched, every instinct demanding he fight back. “No slave would be stupid enough to speak,” he said and Dick closed his eyes. “Not to someone they don't know without permission.”

When Dick bit his tongue, the man laughed. “Oh, it's too late now, you might as well tell me who you are.”

Tilting his head back and making the mistake of meeting the man's eye, Dick stubbornly kept his mouth shut, a bruise already starting to show on his cheek. “Oh, you are so bad at this,” the man said, and when he brought both hands up to press against Dick's cheeks, Dick flinched back. “You aren't branded either.”

“Slaves can be branded anywhere,” Dick said, still trying to pull his face back and he added as if it mattered anymore, “Sir.”

“Sir,” was repeated back at him. “No, I suggest you not call me that again.”

“What should I call you then, sir?” Dick asked and his head was slammed back into the wall, stars bursting in his vision. “I heard you called Wilson,” he said, when he got his breath back.

“Slade Wilson,” the other man said, almost an introduction. “To be technical about who I am.”

“A name tells me very little,” Dick said.

“And yet I have not heard yours yet,” Slade said, and his fingers were still pressed against Dick's cheeks. “And slaves, my boy, are usually branded where it's most appropriate which means where others can see it.” He paused, with another smile, and Dick tried to twist away. “In your case, I could understand not wanting to ruin your beauty which means—” And he used his bulk to keep Dick pressed against the wall, as his hands slid down, over Dick's chest through the flimsy shirt he had been wearing too long, faded and torn. “No marks here,” he said and Dick tried to twist away again. “Except scars. And your wrists,” he said, because they were still red and it had been obvious he had been restrained. “A resistant slave, perhaps? You would have far more marks then this.”

“Let go,” Dick snarled. “My master—”

“Is hardly your master,” Slade said and his finger tips reached Dick's waist, pushing the shirt up as Dick thrashed. “No, the more logical place for a brand on someone like you,” and his hands slid back and down Dick's pants, cupping his ass as Dick arched to try and get away from him. “But no brand here either.  
  
Dick couldn't twist enough to get the power behind his undercut he sent to Slade's chest, or the hook he tried against his cheek. Slade laughed both off, slamming Dick back against the wall again. “Yeah, you're bad at this.”

“Let me go,” Dick hissed.

“Who are you?” Slade asked, and he was considering Dick intently.

“I won't tell you,” Dick ground out and Slade shook his head before he punched Dick in the stomach, making him double over, his chin hitting Slade's shoulder hard.

“Now, do you really think that's wise?” Slade asked, sounding amused as Dick caught himself on Slade's shoulders and struggled to breathe.

“I'm not really known for being wise,” Dick said and he could feel Slade's laugh.

“No?” Slade asked, and he moved, his hands gentle as he straightened Dick. “What are you known for?”

Dick stared at him as an arrow embedded itself in the wall next to his head, having gone right over Slade's shoulder.

“Leave him alone,” Connor said, bow out.

“Ah, the medieval brigade has finally caught up,” Slade said and Jason looked like thunder and rage as he stormed down the alleyway.

“Let him the fuck go,” he snarled and Dick couldn't do anything except focus on the fear and fury on Jason's face, his handguns both pointed at Slade. “He belongs to me.”

“I'm thinking he belongs to no one,” Slade said. “What a dangerous treasure to bring into the city.”

“Dick, what the fuck did you say to him?” Jason demanded and Dick's face twisted.

“He didn't, strictly,” Slade said and finally stepped back. Dick instantly lunged, bracing his hands on Slade's shoulders and jumping up and over him. “But it's fairly obvious.” Dick landed, alighting near Jason who pressed their shoulders together.

“Are you hurt?” Jason demanded.

“Not much,” Dick said and Slade laughed again.

“Most people would protest I had in fact hurt them quite a bit,” he said and Jason reached out, touching the forming bruise on Dick's cheek with gentle fingers.

“I'm fine,” Dick said, forcing his voice to be level.

“You will not touch him again,” Jason said, snapping his gaze back over to Slade, and when he stepped forward, Connor's hand tensed on the bow.

“I find it cute that you think you could stop me,” Slade said, and he stopped directly in front of them, Dick tilting his chin back. “But I am sure I'll see you again.”

“I wouldn't plan on it,” Dick said.

“I would,” Slade said, his voice a promise. “But I have other things to attend to today. See you all around,” he added, and breezed past Connor.

Jason and Dick stared at each other.

“I only let go for a minute,” Jason said, and his voice had dropped.

“I'm fine,” Dick said, even though at least one dangerous man knew he was not what they said.

“The bruise will make people assume certain things,” Connor added.

“You'll have to deal with it, Jason,” Dick said and Jason jerked away, angry and impotence flashing over his face for a moment.

“Right,” he said. “Like the assumption I would share you, that I would strike you.”

Dick shrugged, already turning to walk away. “Some people like things like that,” he said and stopped at the mouth of the alley, realizing he needed Jason with him. Except he had left Jason standing frozen and staring at him. “What?” Dick demanded. “I didn't say I did. But there's not only the implication you have to be a violent master.”

“Right,” Jason finally said, striding toward Dick and Dick had to swallow. “Fine, point taken.”

“We should get the others and return home,” Connor said.

-0-

Cassandra watched Bruce from her perch behind and above him. He walked through Gotham, as he rarely did anymore at night, a rifle slung over his shoulder more for show then any expectation of running into trouble.

Since he had dragged the Joker, bleeding and laughing and locked him away into the darkness of the old City Hall, no one had dared to approach him on the streets. But Cass would never leave him to walk the streets of Gotham alone, no matter how quiet they were, or how hurt and angry Bruce was.

“Are you looking for trouble?” she asked, alighting on the level of the fire escape closest to him and Bruce did not even startle. He had been staring at the same patch of the street for a long time.

“Did you know,” he said, voice deep but level, as if he would not allow emotions into it. “That I saw my father and mother die?”

“I know that they did,” Cass said after a beat, having to search for the words still sometimes. She remained perched on the fire escape, not reaching forward like she suspected Dick would have, or moving away like Jason would have. She did not offer sympathy or anger, like Tim or Damian in turn might have.

Instead she acknowledged the fact and waited for Bruce to continue the conversation.

“It was here,” Bruce said. “And then years later, I met Jason here as well. This alley used to be a place were the rich would come, back when the war lords were in control. Before the world changed, I suspect it served much of the same functions. It's almost at the dead center of Gotham. It could be called its heart, if one wanted to be poetic.”

She did not say that it was not Bruce's heart.

“I so rarely come here anymore,” Bruce said, softly.

“Where did you meet Dick the first time?” Cass asked, because he had mentioned Jason but so rarely spoke that name anymore.

Bruce tensed, his shoulders a long line of suppressed emotion and fear. “Somewhere else,” he said.

“Tim is angry with you,” Cass said, a statement that seemed so obvious to be glaring, and yet sometimes Bruce needed to hear the things that everyone already knew. “He thinks you've abandoned Dick.”

“No,” Bruce said softly. “I could never.” His hands were tight on the end of the rifle. “I just do not know how to live without him.”

“So you would rather not live?” Cass asked, neutral.

“Living means a thousand different things,” Bruce said, starting to walk again, and Cass stuck to the shadows, following him. “I keep breathing and walking and eating like ever.”

“That's not what living is,” Cass said and her face twisted in the shadows, Bruce stopping to look up at her, where she was perched in the empty windowsill of a long left building. They looked at each other in silence, while Cass struggled to find the right words. “Living is people,” Cass said. “Living is touching, living is wanting to protect. Wanting to love. Living is having a purpose that goes beyond...”

“I have a purpose,” Bruce said.

“Have you forgotten it?” Cass shot back and went back to struggling what she had been trying to express. “Living is finding joy in the darkness.” She thought about Steph's face, her earnest eyes and shining gold hair as she crouched in front of Cass, trying to explain it.

Now Cass was trying to recreate that moment, to remember the way her chest had inflated and she had felt alive with Steph's hands pressing down against her own, the warmth of the other girl seeping into her bones. She was trying to reexplain it to a man who looked at her with heavy eyes, who she would protect to the death.

She just did not know how to protect him from his own heavy soul.

“I had joy in the darkness,” Bruce said quietly.

“It is not just Dick,” Cass said. “You have others who love you. You have, Tim, Damian, me.”

Bruce looked away to the side, the full moon above them the only light, harshly highlighting his cheekbones.

“We aren't Dick,” she said. “We aren't Jason. We love you too.”

“I know,” Bruce said, and his eyes were heavy.

Cass wondered if the others ever saw him this vulnerable. He wondered if they would be only scared. She wanted to touch him, his cheeks and hair and draw him against her and see if she could warm him at all, thaw the pain around him.

“We are not enough,” she said as a statement.

“I don't know if anyone is,” Bruce said, and they both knew it was something of a lie.

As far as she knew, Cass had only loved two people in the world. Bruce, for his strength and rage and icy calm, and Steph for all the exact opposite reasons. She liked others, admired Jason's passion, Tim's intellectual desperation to survive, and Dick's easy smile as if he always had something worth fighting for and a moment to spare for any question she had.

But only two that made her ache and want to help.

“You should talk to Tim,” she said. “And the others. They are hurting too.”

“Not the same,” Bruce said and turned around, so the moon was at his back and his face was in shadows. She squeezed her eyes shut as he started walking away, before she followed, silent in the dark above him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slade's plan is always a long game one. Sorry if that wasn't as dramatic as some were expecting.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like a lot longer then two days between updates for this story.

Dick watched Connor as Jason frowned at the bruise on his cheek. “Can we hide this somehow?” Jason asked.

“I thought we said that would be a stupid idea,” Dick said, not taking his eyes from where Connor was sitting cross legged, his eyes closed and breathing deep on the kitchen table.

Jason's hands curled into a fist before he forced them to unclench. “Maybe,” he said. “But I'm still not thrilled about it.”

“At least he didn't break the bone,” Dick said. “That hurts.” When there was silence a moment too long, Dick looked over and up at Jason. “What?”

“You got your cheekbone broken?” Jason asked, voice low.

Dick shrugged. “Yeah. A, uh, brick I think. Anyway, it healed, it just hurt for a long time.”

“When was this?” Jason asked, and there was suppressed fury in his voice.

“Between you dying and coming back,” Dick said, too glibly because irritation curled under his breastbone.

“So, what, I don't have a right to be annoyed at how fucking stupid you are?”

Dick pushed himself to his feet, and Connor finally cracked open his eyes. “If this is a comment about today—”

“Of course it is,” Jason snarled.

“I didn't _do_ anything,” Dick said. “You're the one who let go—”

“Only for a minute!” Jason protested. “Okay, fine, I fucked up just fine. You're the one who let that fucker know you weren't a slave.”

“I hate to tell you he figured it out on his own,” Dick said. “He was checking me for a brand, Jason, which, you'll incidentally have to come up with a story for. He apparently has some experience with slaves because he was giving me a lecture on how badly I was doing pretending to be one!”

Jason's fingers were curling and uncurling again and Connor finally unfolded his legs, gracefully sliding off the table. “Flipping over his shoulders was probably still unnecessary,” Connor said, quiet but cutting them both off before they could start yelling. “It's one thing to know you aren't a slave, another to be that trained.”

Mouth twisting, Dick inclined his head. “Alright,” he said, bitterness seeping into his voice. “Noted.”

Connor frowned as there was a knock on the door. They looked at each other, waiting for Roy to clatter down the stairs and join them. Ollie and Mia were still at the market. “Ready?” Connor asked, and Roy nodded before he pulled open the door.

Jade stood on the other side, a bright green scarf wrapped around her shoulders and chest, and black hair wild. “So good to see you Connor,” she said, and if tones could be poison Connor would have be dead. “I want to talk to my lover.”

“We ain't lovers anymore,” Roy said, appearing at Connor's elbow and leaning against the frame of the doorway. For a moment they just stared at each other, like Jade hadn't really been expecting to see him so soon, and like Roy had forgotten the exact lines of Jade's face and wanted to commit them to memory all over again.

“You were gonna marry me,” Jade said, and Dick's eyes kept flickering between their faces.

“That was a long time ago,” Roy said softly. “What do you want?”

“You better let me in,” Jade said, and Roy and Connor both tensed. “Don't be sanctimonious assholes,” she snapped, and shoved Connor back. “You're lucky I'm not here trying to stab you're damned heart out for taking my girl.” Once she was through the door she barely spared a look for Dick and Jason, turning back to Roy. “Speaking of which, where is she?”

“You didn't come here to see Lian,” Roy said.

“Don't make the assumption you know any reason for why I'm here,” Jade said. “Now, where is she?”

“She's not here,” Roy said, and there was desolation in his voice and face.

“What do you mean,” and Jade was twitching forward with every word, moving with predatory grace across the floor, her head tilted so she could look up at Roy. “That she isn't here? You _stole_ her from me!”

“Yes,” Roy agreed, tone amiable. “I did. And she isn't here.”

“Where is she?” Jade demanded.

“Somewhere else,” Roy said and Jade snarled at him, barring all her teeth.

“Where else is somewhere else, Roy?” she said, and was close enough to put her hand on his chest, her nails digging into the fabric.

“Metropolis,” he said after a beat and she froze before violently shoving him back.

“What? You sent our daughter across the _whole desert_ because you were, what, scared I might dare to influence her? She's _my child too_!”

“It wasn't entirely about you,” Roy said. “Or me for that matter. You think I'm happy knowing she's all the way out there?”

“Then why did you send her?” Jade yelled, and Dick glanced over at Jason, trying to keep his movements slow enough not to be noticed. “Why did you take her away from both of us?”

“Are you stupid?” Roy asked, like he genuinely wanted to know and she slapped him hard across the face. Rubbing his cheek, he turned his head back to her. “You know how dangerous it was getting here for her, for both of us in our different ways. Someone was going to come after her and you know it.”

“So you took her out of both of our lives, using your damned brother as the tool?” she said. “How is that better, Roy? She's probably not even safe there either and we can't do anything.”

“With luck, it will be temporary,” Roy said and Jade threw her head back, laughing.

“Temporary,” she mocked. “Because you think your revolution has any chance of succeeding? Please. You'll die long before then, and your daughter will be without a father in a far away city. You damn well know I can't afford to leave here, can't afford to make my way out there, even if I could get out of the city.” She shoved his chest and Connor had tightened his hand on his bow. “Damn you, Roy Harper, damn you!”

He caught her wrist. “I know you're—”

“Don't,” she snarled, jerking away and rubbing her skin where they had touched. “Do. Not.” Shaking her head, some of her wild hair went back over her shoulders before she focused her gaze away from him, where Dick and Jason were still standing. “Ah,” she said after a beat. “You are as bad as Slade suggested you were.”

“Excuse me?” Jason asked when Dick winced.

Jade ran a hand over her hair, not taming it except to get most of it out of her face. “I didn't actually come here to reminiscence about old times,” she said, her eyes darting to Roy again before back. “But to warn you.”

“Why?” Jason asked.

“Because it amuses me to do so,” she snapped. “Black Manta's men are paying attention to you, and these two are making you stand out more. But if Slade goes to anyone with the story of the pretend slave—well, how well do you think that would go down.” She leered at Dick, who took a step back. “Not that you wouldn't look pretty stripped down and branded in the slave markets.”

“Not sure that's Slade's goal,” Dick said, to cover the jump in his throat.

“Oh, it is,” Jade said. “He'd buy you, of course, but public humiliation wouldn't be off the table either.”

“You sure Slade wouldn't just kill Jason and steal Dick instead?” Roy asked, earning him a glare from Jason.

Jade shrugged. “You know who else has been hanging around this street?” she asked. “Black Manta's men. So honestly, do what you want.” Her eyes lingered on Roy for another moment before she stormed out of the house, Connor carefully closing the door after her.

“Shit,” Jason said into the silence.

“What does that all mean?” Dick asked.

“For everything she said, there's a lot she didn't say,” Connor replied.

“We need to get the two of you out of here,” Roy said after a beat. “For all our sakes.”

-0-

The instant Mia and Ollie returned, the house erupted.

“Are you sure that's what the threat was?” Ollie asked for the third time.

“No, we don't exactly know the threat, that's partly the point,” Roy said, helping Dick shove things into one of the bike's bags.

“I don't think Slade Wilson is the type to give up just because I disappear for a bit,” Dick said, looking around the room and trying to think if there was anything else.

“No,” Roy agreed, diving under the table. “You'll probably need to stay on the move. Connor is working with Jason on figuring out a schedule, and how to keep in contact. The sooner we get you out of the city, the better.”

“That I can agree on,” Dick said, wanting to kick the table.

“You know this means you never get to go off script, right?” Mia asked, where she was sitting on the bottom of the stairs. “It's gonna be different from when you had a place to hide here.”

“I know,” Dick said, closing his eyes.

“You sure?” she asked, and he couldn't tell if that was empathy or pity in her eyes.

“Yes,” he said, eyes still closed so he only had to lie to the darkness.

-0-

Ollie pointed them to a hotel, several streets down and technically in another sector entirely. “I don't like this,” Dick said into the skin of Jason's throat, because compared to the other buildings this one looked squat, and there were several people sitting on the stairs, openly staring.

“I think we've gone past the point where that mattered,” Jason admitted, tightening his grip on Dick's waist, having already stowed the bike nearby at a garage Roy swore would keep it safe.

Dick nodded, wrapping his own arm around Jason's waist, and putting most of his weight against him.

“That's a pretty one,” one of the men on the steps called. “He yours?”

“Yes,” Jason snapped. “He is.” When one of the others reached out to touch Dick's thigh, Jason kicked their hand away. “No touching.”

“Not the sharing type, are you?”

“No,” Jason snarled, and Dick nuzzled against his side, trying to look as vacantly in adoration of his master as he could.

“What about a show? If we can't touch, if you won't share? Can we at least watch?”

Dick froze, his fingers tightening on the back of Jason's jacket, feeling his muscles bunch as he breathed. “Hell no,” Jason said and the mood was starting to turn against them right there on the staircase. “Not the main show, anyway,” he added, flashing them a smile and Dick's eyes flickered over, confused by what Jason was implying.

When he felt Jason's fingers against his chin, he let Jason turn his head because he could not be seen resisting. He even kept the frown off of his face, as Jason tilted his head back. For a moment Jason stared at him, and Dick stopped breathing because their faces were close enough he could feel Jason's breath on his mouth.

He had time to close his eyes when Jason leaned down, pressing their mouths together.

His hand tightened on the back of Jason's jacket, tight enough he felt sure Jason could feel it through the thick material, but otherwise he did not allow himself to react. He couldn't even press up into the kiss, or respond except to accept it.

Jason's mouth was dry and chapped, and he pressed their lips together hard, trying to show ownership and possession, but his tongue remained firmly in his own mouth. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dick tried not to dwell on it, not to shove Jason's away for a kiss that had turned painful, or ease him in and open his mouth into a kinder and more passionate kiss.

Dick wanted to kiss with his whole body, he wanted to be able to wrap his arms around Jason's shoulders and press up into him. He wanted to hear his intake of air when Dick sucked on his tongue and tasted behind his teeth, to feel the heat of Jason's breath and to kiss like he meant it. Instead he forced himself to stand still and let the harsh kiss happen to him.

When Jason drew away, Dick looked down and curled back against Jason's side as he dragged them both into the hotel.


	19. Chapter 19

Jason did not look over at Dick as he stormed up to the desk of the hotel. Ostensibly, it looked like the hotels Dick read about sometimes in the old singed books Bruce had. There was a desk, and rooms to rent out by the night or week.

But somehow Dick had a feeling anyone from the past would have been offended at the squalid and dark conditions of the room, crawling with those the desert had blown in.

“Some new arrivals, eh?” the clerk asked, her eyes too dark and Dick turned when he heard a rustling sound, seeing several of the people from the stairs sliding in the door, eyes trained on them. He tapped a warning out to Jason on the back of his jacket.

“We got kicked out of our last place,” Jason said, with an easy smile. “For being too loud or some bogus. Some people just don't know how to respect, you know? Or at least respect money.”

The clerk's eyes lit up. “I know exactly where you had been staying,” she said, making the assumption about one of her rivals, exactly as Jason meant her too. “Don't worry, we won't treat you so badly.” Her eyes alighted on Dick and he looked away. “As long as you pay, of course.”

Jason flipped the money down on the counter in a move Dick vaguely recalled teaching him in another life time, when Jason had been a child and Dick desperate to show him any trick to survive. “Of course I do. I expect we won't be disturbed either?”

“Of course not,” she said, scrambling the money off the desk and handing Jason a metal key with a number carved into it. Jason eyed it warily before accepting it, because there was something that could be rust or blood coating most of the metal.

“Thanks,” he said, before shouldering the bags and taking Dick with him up the stairs. “Top of the place,” he said, looking at the number.

“How lovely,” Dick said, and glanced over his shoulder. He tapped Morse code into Jason's waist, about still being followed and felt the rumble of Jason's growl that he tried not to vocalize.

The stairs felt like they went on forever before they were at the top and they both stared at the number roughly carved into the door to the left of the staircase. “Charming place,” Jason said, kicking the door open, and slamming it in the face of their followers.

Dick looked around the room, moving automatically to check the window and then he pulled the covers back from the bed, trying to judge if they were clean enough to sleep in. Jason remained by the door, leaning his ear against it as Dick opened the window, to get air into the stale room.

“Can you close the curtain?” Jason asked and Dick eyed the gauzy material.

“As much as I can,” he said, pulling it down over the open window, watching it blow in the faint breeze. “It won't do much for light.”

“That's fine,” Jason said, still against the door. “Damn,” he said quietly, checking the lock before walking over. “I shouldn't have made that comment about being loud.”

“What?” Dick asked, turning around and almost directly into Jason's chest. He startled, eyes going up. “Jason?”

Jason leaned down, so he could whisper in Dick's ear. “They're out there, listening. I refused a show and they've accepted that for now but—”

“They're listening to hear us have sex?” Dick asked, trying to keep his own voice level and quiet. “Seriously?”

Jason looked like he was trying not to laugh at the offended look on Dick's face. “Yeah.”

Dick closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“Get on the bed and rustle around,” Jason said. “We'll pretend, all right? You'll have to moan a lot too.”

“Why am I the one moaning?” Dick hissed and Jason drew back enough to stare at him. “Right,” Dick said after a beat with a wry twist of his mouth. He met Jason's eyes before he strode over to the bed, dropping down on the rough sheets and twisting around until he was at the center.

Keeping his eyes on the ceiling as he writhed around, feeling ridiculous, he caught Jason moving out of the corner of his eye. Jason came to a stop, standing at the foot of the bed and Dick frowned at him before he realized what his plan was.

“Come on, Dick,” Jason said after a beat and Dick whimpered, feeling even stupider. He could feel his cheeks heat up and went back to looking at the ceiling. There were cracks in the dark glossy material and he whimpered again. A few more twists of his body, and he tried a moan only to cut off when it seemed too tiny and pathetic in the space of the room.

As he swallowed, Jason suddenly shoved his knee against the bed, knocking it into the wall and Dick startled, even though he had been expecting it.

He gave another moan, with his eyes trained on the ceiling and the bed shoved into the wall again, the wooden frame rattling and he could feel the whole thin mattress bounce. Closing his eyes, he covered his face with his hands as if that would make pretending to moan easier.

Dick wasn't particularly loud in bed. Barbara had commented on it once, when she lay there playing with his hair in the light from the two candles they had allowed themselves. She had smiled about it though, and kissed his forehead.

The bed thumped against the wall, Jason getting a rhythm going as he kicked it and after a moment of that, Dick's eyes flew open because he realized this was how Jason imagined sex. This was the pace he would chose for it and it implied long, deep, and steady thrusts and that moan felt less fake then the others had.

Jason grunted and Dick made the mistake of focusing on his face. His pupils were blown and he was gazing down at Dick like he actually did want to be on that bed with him.

Dick felt hot and too tight all over, his hands clenching uselessly on the sheets when their eyes met. “Jay,” he groaned, and that sounded _too real_.

“Come on, baby,” Jason said, voice deep and Dick wasn't writhing around anymore, he was just shaking as the bed pounded against the wall, moving him with it. Dick threw his head back to get away from the way Jason stared at him, going back to high pitched whimpers because that was easier.

Jason kicked the bed particularly hard, and let out a the filthiest moan Dick had ever heard, the sound shooting through him and he covered his face again and yelped, a sound he had never made during sex but was the only one his throat and chest could agree on.

The bed stopped moving and Dick kept his hands over his face, still shaking. He felt a dip beside him and a rustle, Jason leaning over to tap Morse Code into his shaking ribs.

_Are you okay?_

He nodded, finally drawing his hands away from his face. Jason's eyes were still dark as he held himself up over Dick and he wanted to whimper again. Instead he took several deep breaths from the diaphragm, nodding again to Jason who considered his face intently before he crawled up on to the bed, laying down next to Dick.

Rolling over on to his side, Dick drew his knees up against his chest. They lay like that until Jason rolled over, pressing his mouth against Dick's ear, making him jump and almost try to pull away.

“Is the idea really so awful?” Jason whispered and Dick tensed, his vertebrae clicking together in his spine.

“That's not it,” he said softly, and reached back to find one of Jason's hands, pulling it around him to rest on his chest where he could hold it. Jason's hands flexed in surprise before he pressed his fingers down.

“Then what is it?” Jason asked.

“The idea of being used and owned,” Dick whispered, looking at the window, which was still open. Anyone who stepped into the room would know it did not smell like sex though and he winced. “I want to go home,” he added, closing his eyes again and feeling the weight and heat of Jason behind his back.

“We'll get you back to where you belong, your home,” Jason promised, mouth still hot at Dick's ear and he squeezed his eyes tighter together.

Because Jason said his home, not theirs.

-0-

Tim caught Damian at the top of the city hall, checking his belt. “You have barely been using the radios,” Tim said, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms.

“So?” Damian asked, not looking over at him. “You probably shouldn't even be up here—or caring about the radios.”

“Just because I can't go out myself doesn't mean I'm not listening,” Tim said. “Like Babs does most nights. We've been looking at maps, listening, things like that. But you're still refusing to report in.”

“It's not so much a refusal as a disinterest in jumping to your demands,” Damian said. “I work fine alone and so it does not matter to me who's saying what.”

“Fine alone,” Tim said, voice dropping. “Yes, I remember that mentality. Didn't it end with you pinned under the Joker with a gun to your head?” Damian tensed, halfway through pulling his heavy gloves on and Tim slunk across the roof toward him, paying attention to the way he moved, trying to model it off how Pamela or Cassandra seemed to float across the floor.

“Do you have a point, Drake?” Damian asked, and Tim watched his pupils get darker the closer Tim got.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching Damian. “Use your damn radio. It's just you and Steph out there right now, doing what four of us used to.”

“Father has been going out too,” Damian said, and Tim reached him, tilting his head back to meet Damian's eyes.

“It's still not quite the same and you know it,” Tim said, reaching a hand out to rest on Damian's neck, where his jacket started. “And considering what happened last time?” He leaned closer, Damian's eyes tracking him. “I will not bother to invest anything in you if you're that stupidly determined to die.”

“I am not determined to die,” Damian said, voice low and Tim could feel the rumble of it where his hand was pressed against the side of his throat.

“Prove it,” he said, starting to step back and Damian grabbed him, yanking him back in and slamming their mouths together. Tim let himself be pulled in and bent his spine to press against Damian all over.

“Fine,” Damian said, and stepped back, pulling on his other glove.

“I'll wait to hear your reports,” Tim said, taking a couple breaths to make sure his voice would come out even instead of needy.

Damian stared at him before he grinned and went from the roof to the nearest building on the other side, leaving Tim alone on the roof.

-0-

When Dick woke up the sky outside was fully dark, and Jason sat smoking in the window. Pushing himself up, he ran a hand through his hair before padding over, curling up on the other side of the windowsill. “It's funny,” he said, instead of any of the other things he wanted to. “That considering everything we lost, we still can make cigarettes.”

“Tobacco isn't that hard to grow, even now,” Jason said, not looking at him and the room itself was dark but the electric lights outside cast a yellow glow on them. “In certain places, anyway,” he said, blowing smoke out the window. “How are you?” he asked, finally looking over.

Dick lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Well enough,” he said, because he refused to let it be otherwise. “It was a long day.”

“Should go back to bed then,” Jason said.

“Will you sleep?” Dick asked. “We're alone again but there's a lock between us and anyone.”

“I know,” Jason said. “I just don't feel like sleeping.”

“I don't mind taking the floor,” Dick said, watching the smoke to the side of Jason as it curled out the window. “If that would make it better.”

“That's not why,” Jason said.

Dick looked down, his fingers twisting together. “Have I done anything?” he asked. “Things have been tense I know but—”

“No,” Jason cut him off quickly. “No, you're—It's fine. I'm the one who put you in this situation and then,” he broke off, shaking his head. “Will you be able to keep going?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I'll be fine.”

“It makes you uncomfortable,” Jason said and Dick leaned forward, snagging the cigarette out of his hand and Jason startled.

“A lot of things make me uncomfortable,” Dick said, taking a long drag of smoke and slowly letting it out before handing it back. Jason blinked at him before taking it, and he settled it back into his mouth almost carefully.

Dick tried not to stare too hard.

“It's just hard,” he said instead. “To pretend to react in certain ways. That isn't how I would have kissed you. It certainly isn't how I would have had sex with you.”

Jason's throat jumped and Dick could see it in the lights from outside. “Yeah, well,” he said, his voice too gruff. “I'd never know. But I figured,” and he stood abruptly, handing the cigarette back to Dick. “Finish it if you like,” he said, and went back over to the bed, leaving Dick in the window with the smoke.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Makes vague fluttery hand gestures* I don't even know, dear readers, I don't even know.
> 
> (Let's not talk about how much of this chapter was written listening to Lolo's "Hit and Run." Which is at least more appropriate then what I can only describe as British floral pop the other part was written to)

Jason should have had enough nights watching Dick sleep when they were out in the desert with nothing but violence and the wind to keep them company.

But he still found himself sitting on the edge of the bed as dawn streaked the windows outside, watching Dick as he breathed, slow and steady with his limbs thrown out. He must have been tired, Jason thought, because usually he tried to contain himself in sleep.

Jason itched to have another cigarette but he neither wanted to move or think about the way he had taken his back from Dick the night before, trying to kiss the taste of Dick's breath off the end even though he knew it had been foolish.

If he thought about what Dick had said, or the way he had looked, trying to shuffle around the bed with his face red, making ridiculous sounds that should not have been arousing at all, he was going to scream. If he thought about it, he would lean over and kiss Dick awake.

So he sat, knuckles white from his grip on the edge of the bed and waited.

Dick started stirring before he opened his eyes. “Good morning, sunshine,” Jason said and Dick blinked up at him, slowly trying to focus before he actually woke up all at once, pushing himself up.

“Sunshine?” he repeated, side eyeing Jason.

“It's just a phrase,” Jason said, pushing himself up from the bed and pulling out his matches before he thought better of it—again the memory of Dick in the lights with smoke rising around his face—and shoved them back in his pocket. “We're meeting Roy this morning, and Mia this evening.”

“It wouldn't be safe for me to stay here,” Dick said. “But it doesn't seem safe to go out either.”

“Yeah, we're in a bind, so together is better,” Jason said, shrugging into his coat. “That way I can keep an eye on you.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, the corners of his mouth twitching up and his eyes cold. “It's all about you needing to keep an eye on me.”

Jason curled and uncurled his fingers. “You have a while to get ready,” he ground out and Dick rolled gracefully from the bed, walking to the far side of the room where there was a tiny room for washing, the water pumped up from deep below.

-0-

“When are these celebrations going to be over?” Jason asked, looking up and down the street. They were not going to the markets this time, but meeting Roy on the other side of the city sector they were in, between a mechanic and a bar. The streets even here were thronged with people and fake paper flowers were hanging out of windows.

Dick couldn't stop staring at them. “It,” he started. “How do they have the resources for something like this?”

Arm around his waist again, Jason shrugged. “It's not Gotham.”

“Yes, I think I'm aware of that by now,” Dick snapped, and he wanted to bring his hand up to rest on Jason's, pulling him a bit closer. But he couldn't so he went back to looking up and down the street.

A commotion started on the far end of the street, people moving away from the center and bowing. Dick grabbed Jason, pulling him back as whoever was coming up the street got closer. “What the hell is going on down there?” Jason asked.

“Doesn't matter, step back,” Dick whispered, and the people around them weren't bowing so much as dropping to their knees so Dick and Jason followed suit. Jason's hand was still holding Dick's, and with nothing else to distract him, Dick couldn't stop focusing on his callouses and the rough heat of his palm.

Until he realized there was booted feet stopped in front of him. Without lifting his head, he darted his eyes from side to side. Everyone else was still on their knees too, and whoever was standing in front of him was the leader of whatever pack was walking down the street.

“You,” a deep and mechanized voice said, a gloved finger appearing in front of Dick's face and he startled even though he had noticed the boots. “Look up.” Slowly, Dick raised his eyes, trying not to startle again at the black helmet looking back down at him.

“Is this man your master?”

“Yes,” Dick said, not daring to bother with protesting his status. Jason's fingers were white around his hand and he could feel the delicate bones of his hand shifting under his tight grip.

He could not tell anything about the expression behind the helmet, but it seemed the man in front of him was considering him. After a long moment of that, when Dick tried to keep his breathing deep and even, the gloved fingers returned, grabbing his chin and tilting his face back and forth. “Even with the bruise,” the man started and didn't finish. “Are you rebellious?”

“No,” Dick said, swallowing hard and wanting to jerk his head away.

“Is he rebellious?” the man asked, directing his question to Jason this time, who had not raised his head. Dick wanted to give his hand a reassuring squeeze but his was still held too tightly.

“No,” Jason confirmed, not looking up. “Someone else tried to touch him and the scuffle got, uh, complicated. He's not,” and Jason dared to look over at him, Dick swallowing hard. “Not disobedient.”

“You'll have to get over not wanting to share,” the helmeted man said and Dick winced because Jason's hand tightened on his too hard. “And you might just be what I was looking for.”

Dick swallowed, head still tilted back. “What do you want him for?” Jason asked, voice tight and yet level and Dick wanted to hug him for keeping it together.

Something was dropped in front of them, and Dick tried to see it out of the corner of his eye. “Come to the palace tonight,” the man said and Dick started shaking. “Use that to get in.” Something else dropped and he recognized Atlantis currency. “Use this to get him proper attire. Something blue, I think, and gold. You will come tonight as well, only because you are his owner.”

Jason looked at Dick and back to the man. “What time?” he asked, and Dick refused to close his eyes, staring steadily at the helmet in front of him.

“When darkness falls. You will be a gift to my son for his birthday. You,” and he gestured to Jason. “Will stay at the feast. If my son approves, he will buy this one from you. However, since he is so difficult to please it would be a waste of time to buy your slave and have to sell him back to you. Whatever your feelings on it, you will come tonight,” he added, fingers tightening on Dick's chin for a second before letting go.

“Yes, of course,” Jason said, voice tight and furious.

“Good,” the man said. “Make sure you both are better dressed,” and Dick dropped his chin to watch the booted feet walk in front of him and away down the street. After a moment, the others around them started to rise, and Jason and Dick remained where they were for another long minute before Jason clambered to his feet, yanking Dick with him.

“Dick,” he said quietly, furiously, “Dick look at me.”

Dick snapped his gaze from the distant point it had fallen and focused on Jason's face. “Unless we know a way to get out of the city before nightfall,” he whispered.

“Dick,” Jason said, a little helplessly.

“Where are we meeting Roy?” Dick asked, already starting to pull away and Jason grabbed his biceps, yanking him back in.

“Dick,” Jason repeated. “Do you understand what just happened, because you aren't acting like you are.”

“Black Manta,” Dick said, because the man could have been no one else. “Wants to gift me as a pleasure slave to his son. Tonight. And everything considered I'd rather not get you killed.”

“Dick,” Jason said, and his fingers were too tight when Dick finally met his eyes. “Don't you dare.”

“We've been very lucky so far,” Dick said. “But if this is what happens you're getting out alive.”

Jason snarled at him as Roy ran up, having seen the encounter from further up the street. “Are you okay?” Roy asked.

“Fine,” Dick said and Jason shoved him away, making him stumble in the middle of the street.

-0-

Roy rubbed a hand over his face, leaning against the wall of the alleyway they had hidden in, Dick sitting on the stairs and Jason not looking at him. “This is a problem,” Roy said.

“No, really?” Jason demanded, Dick dropping his head in his arms folded over his knees.

“There's no way we can get you out before tonight,” Roy said. “We could try hiding you but—”

“But if they found us before we could get out, I'm assuming it wouldn't go well for us,” Dick said. “Or anyone hiding us.”

“No,” Roy agreed. “No, it wouldn't go well. BM likes public executions.”

Dick shivered, head still in his arms. “So what are our options?"

“You go and the prince likes you,” Roy said, Jason's back one long line of tension and rage. “And buys you, in which case I have no idea what we could do for you unless we topple the whole regime and who knows how long that will take right now. Or he doesn't like you, might not even have sex with you, might try you once in which case,” and he rubbed a hand over his face. “In which case that's still awful but you get stuffed with the best food this city can provide and thrown back into the streets.”

“That's the best option,” Dick said, finally lifting his head.

“It's still rape,” Jason said, and Dick squeezed his eyes shut.

“I _know_ ,” he snapped.

“Or,” Roy cut in. “We try and hide you and probably all get killed for pissing the warlord of the city off for ruining his present for his son. Who, by the way, we know next to nothing about except he seems incredibly cold and competent. Which means he might not even be interested in sex.”

“Right,” Dick said weakly.

“So what do we do?” Jason asked.

Dick looked at Roy a long moment, until Roy gave him a tiny nod. “I guess,” Dick said slowly, Jason finally looking at him. “We go shopping.”

-0-

Dick tried not to think about Jason's expression, the desolation and rage in equal measures as he wrapped the blue dyed gauze around his waist. “Are you sure this was all of it?” he asked, back turned to Jason.

“Yes,” Jason said, fiddling with the gold lace they found.

Dick closed his eyes, glad there were no mirrors in the small room they had rented. There had been hanger ons waiting today too, who had followed them up to their room and Jason had slammed the door in their face with a snarl.

“Dick,” Jason said quietly, as he wrapped the gold gauze over the blue. “You don't have to—”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I do.” He finally turned around, forcing a smile. “I already said. I'm not going to let you get killed if it comes down to one or both of us. I'm not even dying, presumably.”

“What if someone figures out who you are?” Jason asked.

“How?” Dick tilted his head. “I've told no one in this city my name, and my description doesn't quite match anymore. Even if someone had reported that Bruce Wayne's oldest was pretty, they wouldn't be looking for me as a pleasure slave.”

Jason stared at him and Dick became too aware of how little he was wearing. The boots at least, which he refused to give up at least covered a lot of his legs, and the soft blue pants that hung low and tight the rest. The gauze around his waist was for show and he had put strips of it around his wrists to hide the scars from the cuffs.

“Come on,” he said, holding a hand out and Jason dropped the lace into it, Dick collaring it around his throat.

“I don't like giving them a choke hold on you,” Jason said.

“It's part of the costume,” Dick replied, not looking at him and Jason handed him the only piece of jewelry they could afford, a bracelet to go over the gauze at his wrist.

“I'm not going to leave you here,” Jason said and Dick didn't dare look at him. “If he wants to buy you. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sure it won't come to that,” Dick said. “I'll, uh, try and be complaisant but not too desirable, alright?”

“Not sure that's how you work, Dick,” Jason said, staring at him with the corners of his mouth twisted up.

“You know what?” Dick said because he couldn't stop it from coming out of his mouth. “This would have been easier if you had just said you were in love with me a long time ago.”

Jason's entire face changed, eyes widening and mouth barely dropping open. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don't,” Dick said, raising a hand and Jason was staring at him too intently. “Just don't, stop acting like I'm wrong.”

“Does it matter?” Jason asked, in a smaller voice. “If I love you or not?”

“Of course it matters,” Dick protested. “It always matters.”

“Do you love me?” Jason asked, taking a step back and it still surprised Dick sometimes, the fact he had to tilt his head back to meet Jason's eyes. He remembered too well a boy smaller then him who had to look up at _him_.

“I,” he said and had to swallow past his dry throat. “I don't know.”

Jason stepped back, a wry smile on his lips. “You don't know,” he repeated.

“I care about you,” Dick said and had to look away, staring at the wall. “In fact, I know I love you. I just don't know, exactly, how anymore. I'm still trying to figure it out.”

“Well you figured out I was in love with you,” Jason said and his voice hitched on the words. “So I guess that means I have to trust you'll figure that one out too.”

“I am trying,” Dick said quietly.

“But I mean it,” Jason said and Dick had to look back at him. “No matter what happens tonight, I'm not leaving you here.”

“I know,” Dick said softly even though he wished it was any other way. Jason hesitated before he reached his fingers out, tracing the line of Dick's cheekbone, almost reverent.

“I came out for a chance in a thousand to save you in the desert,” Jason said. “I'm going to get you out of this too.”

“I know,” Dick repeated again because anything else he said would cause him to fall apart.

“I do,” Jason said quietly. “You took the words from me, but I am in love with you.” Dick closed his eyes as Jason pressed a faint kiss to his temple, lingering and desperate for barely touching his skin. “And I'm not leaving you here,” Jason breathed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love whenever I post a chapter and I get to wait and see the same reviewers, and get to hear what everyone has to say. Basically, I really love this story for the pack of regular reviewers you guys are really awesome and I totally appreciate it.

Dick sat, his back straight, listening only vaguely to the music. He felt caught between staring around him in shocked awe and wanting to slink under the table and hide there in case someone somehow forgot about him.

Which was unlikely, if the looks he was getting was anything to go by.

Under the table, he slid his hand over, wrapping his fingers around Jason's wrist and used his other hand to methodologically shovel food into his mouth. Even though he felt queasy and sick, he knew better then to let food in front of him pass.

He felt Jason's fingers curl, and he slid his palm down from Jason's wrist to rest against his, letting their fingers entwine.

“For being his own party,” Jason said, pressing his mouth against Dick's ear. “The heir apparent doesn't seem interested in actually coming.”

“I think it really gets started later,” Dick murmured, his eyes darting around, gaze low.

There were lights everywhere in the garden, and more green and leafy plants then Dick could ever recall seeing. It left him in awe and feeling a little sick to think about how many resources went into a place like this, where so few could see them.

“I wonder how they support this,” he said softly, head still down.

“The plants?” Jason asked.

“Everything,” Dick murmured, and Jason was stroking the back of his hand, distracting him for a long moment. “It's all,” and he trailed off because people were looking at them again, talking behind their hands but he knew the glint in their eye. “Jason,” he said quietly. “If anyone else asks to buy me—”

“They couldn't, until after,” Jason said.

“I know,” Dick said, urgently because someone was walking over. “But you can't, you cannot react like I know—” and he cut off when the approaching man was too close.

“I know,” Jason said anyway, low and dark and he titled his chin back as the man came to a stop in front of them, staring down at Dick, who dropped his own gaze.

“Why, I've not seen the two of you here before,” the courtier said. “Come from the outside?”

“Yes,” Jason said, his voice gruff and Dick tightened his grip because he could hear the barely banked rage there.

“And where,” the courtier was looking at him and Dick could feel it like a brand. “Did you find this one?”

“Gotham,” Jason answered and Dick startled, though he stopped himself from staring at Jason or otherwise reacting.

“Really?” the man laughed. “Does that mean you stole him out from underneath the monster of Gotham? I hear he doesn't even allow any sort of slavery! How uncivilized.”

“Is that what they call Wayne out here, the monster of Gotham?” Jason asked, a wry tint to his voice. “And yeah, it's a very different place. Out of its time, you could say.”

The courtier laughed. “However so do you mean?”

“Well, it might have belonged in the past, hell, maybe it belongs in the future but it sure doesn't belong in the now,” Jason said and Dick wanted to sink into the ground. Because out in the desert, with only Jason to lean on, sometimes it had been easier to forget how differently they thought of the city they were born.

“And yet you managed to steal yourself a slave from there.”

“Well, sometimes one must do what one must.”

“Do you think there are more like him there?” the courtier asked. “I can imagine the offers you've been getting.”

“No,” Jason said, voice tight and Dick had stopped trying to eat, simply sitting there with his hand in Jason's and wanting to scream until his throat was raw. “He's one of a kind and one I'm most fond of.”

“And yet you are here,” the courtier said with a sly smile, knowing exactly what that meant. They had displayed their token and been ushered into the back of the garden, at a table with only a few others who had mostly risen to mingle long ago, making them stand out even more.

“Yes,” Jason said, voice tight. “Here we are.”

“So you would not sell him to any lesser bidders, hm?” the courtier asked, running his fingers along Dick's jaw, and Dick swallowed hard, forcing his gaze to not waver.

“That's correct,” Jason said and the courtier ran the backs of his fingers the other way before dropping his hand.

“Perhaps someone will be able to change your mind,” he said. “But we all must await the bid of the heir apparent first, hm?”

“Who doesn't even come to his own parties,” Jason said and there was something in the courtier's expression Dick couldn't quite pick out.

“He takes his duties most seriously,” the courtier said. “He probably has not realized night has fallen and the party started yet.”

Finally the courtier moved away, and Dick tightened his fingers on Jason's hand. “I thought you were the one terrified of having any one associate me with Gotham,” Dick said, as quietly as he could. Jason sighed, almost silent and Dick relented. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Not on my best game,” Jason said, tilting his head back to be closer to Dick's ear again and every time he felt Jason's breath at his ear, something hot slithered down his spine.

“You,” a new voice said behind them and Dick and Jason both jumped, a woman directly behind them. She wore her dark hair loose and a choker with a yellow gem around her throat, and her voice was totally flat. “You're supposed to come with me, while you stay and enjoy the party.” Her eyes moved between Dick and then to Jason as she spoke.

“Right,” Jason said, and his voice, in contrast to her's, shook with barely contained rage, and for a long moment he refused to let go of Dick's hand. Dick almost stopped breathing, terrified of what Jason would do. Except Jason only raised his hand, slowly pressing a kiss to Dick's knuckles and even though Dick knew Black Manta was a horrible man to keep waiting, and even though he knew they were still being watched, he stopped caring.

He leaned forward, not caring that he was never supposed to initiate contact or make any decisions of his own, and pressed his mouth against Jason's.

It was not the kiss they had on the stairs, close mouthed and angry, because he melted himself into it, letting his bare chest rest against Jason's heavy leathers and holding on to his biceps. Dropping his mouth open, he tried not to whimper when Jason responded, sucking his tongue into his mouth and Jason's hands coming up to rest on the small of his back and Dick shifted the fraction of an inch closer that he could.

Except he had to pull back too soon, mouth feeling raw and panting because he couldn't breath fast enough as Jason stared at him with glazed eyes. “That's how, huh?” Jason asked lowly, and Dick could only nod.

“Are you ready then?” the woman behind them asked, her arms folded over her chest and Dick wondered what expression was buried behind her eyes.

“Yes,” he said, rising to his feet in one graceful motion and her eyes tracked over his whole body a moment before she nodded and turned on her heel, walking away. With a glance back at Jason, his fingers twitching to do _something_ else, Dick followed her.

They left the garden with it's lights and music behind, walking through corridors made up of high columns made of the same black stone as the rest of the city, twisting up and away into a far off ceiling. Walking behind her, Dick could not help but look around, nearly tripping because his head was tilted so far back.

“Not used to a place like this, are you?” she asked after a beat.

“No,” Dick said, dropping his gaze as quickly as he could.

She looked at him over her shoulder before stopping in front of a door, pushing it open and Dick stepped through into a brightly lit room, a large desk monopolizing the space across from the door, with several trophies and rusted swords mounted on the wall behind. Dick stared, because he could not recall ever seeing a game animal that large. Tilting his head back, he noticed the skeleton hanging from the ceiling and openly gaped.

“And to think,” the slightly mechanical voice said that Dick knew from that morning. He instantly dropped his gaze back to the floor where it belonged. “That skeleton is only of a baby whale. Imagine their size when they still swam here.”

“I,” Dick started, realized he had not technically been given permission to speak, and snapped his mouth shut again.

“Rules are looser out in the desert, aren't they?” Black Manta asked, walking toward him. Dick nodded, tight and short and gloved fingers tilted his chin back again. “But you will obey direct orders? Answer.”

“I will,” Dick said. “I do.”

“Good,” and the fingers stroked his cheek. “That's good.” Black Manta stepped back and made a motion. “Turn.”

Dick slowly did, not thinking about the time Bruce had made him do this, to check the outfit Bruce had been putting together for him, when they were still just the two of them on the streets and there was enough armor to even pretend they had enough to protect themselves.

It felt like a stab wound, to think about Bruce here.

“You are quite scarred,” Black Manta said when he came to a stop. “But not branded.”

“This,” Dick said, tapping two carved marks on his chest, where Zsasz had held him down and cut at his skin several years ago. It was an obvious and old enough scar that Jason had picked it out earlier that afternoon.

“So you can't stand the thought that people would assume you would sell me, but you're willing to be the master to brand me with a scar?” Dick had asked and Jason had looked at him with such heavy eyes he dropped his gaze.

“Interesting,” Black Manta said, and Dick stared at the floor again. “Most masters prefer a more obvious brand but at least it means you know who you belong to.” His fingers flitted over the scar before he stepped back again. “Follow,” he commanded and Dick did, padding after him and this time he refused to allow himself to stare.

Black Manta led him to a room with a pool set into the floor and Dick stopped, again feeling like his surprise was painted all over his face. “Strip and bath,” Black Manta said, pointing.

Dick closed his eyes even as he started with the collar and then his wrists, before starting at the dyed bandage like gauze at his waist. “Someone,” Black Manta said, catching his wrist. “Restrained you recently. Why?”

“Kidnapped from my master,” Dick said, his voice a rasp.

It was oddly perhaps the truest thing he had said all night.

Black Manta hummed and dropped his wrist. “Your outfit will suffice, though it is hardly of the quality or even the design I would prefer. However, it is charming in its own way, and possibly that will endear you more to my son.” He paused as Dick pulled off his boots, and then the soft leather pants. “However,” and he was holding the gold lace. “I will provide you with the appropriate jewelry.”

Dick nodded, finally down to his skin and he shivered as Black Manta made a circle motion with his hands, and Dick obediently went in a circle again. “Good. Now get in the water.”

Swallowing, Dick obeyed, sinking into the pool and sighing in the pleasure of feeling what was surprisingly warm water wash over him. He had never had the chance to bath like this and he wanted to sink down and bask in the warmth and the light feeling of being surrounded by so much water. Instead, he washed briskly and came out far before he was ready, a towel handed to him. He redressed quickly, shoving any shame he felt as far back as possible because that helmet had never moved from his direction.

“Here,” Black Manta said, and held out a heavy gold collar, made out of solid metal and studded with glittering stones. Dick blinked at it a moment too long before accepting it and clasping it around his own throat. The heft of the metal made breathing feel different, and when he swallowed his throat bobbed against it's weight. Several gold bracelets were also clipped around his wrists and Dick did not react. 

“Now, you are an acceptable gift,” Black Manta said, pleasure making his voice warm and Dick bit the inside of his lip, following him again through the vast corridors of his palace. He thought he could hear the sound of music through one of the open walls as they walked up a long set of dark stairs. Turning his head he caught sight of the lights and the garden and almost tripped on the stairs because he saw Jason.

Jason, looking away from him, his fingers clenched tight on the table in front of him and the woman who had originally fetched him was sitting down there, next to Jason.

Dick wanted to stop, to hang himself out the window and call for Jason but instead he forced himself to keep walking, swallowing down panic through the heavy collar with every step.

“Kaldur'ahm,” Black Manta said, and Dick hadn't even seen him push the doors open, but now light spilled on to his face, not the cold blue tinged lights that were in the garden and in the bathing chamber, but warm and yellow. It reminded him more of the firelight of Gotham and somehow his chest eased.

“Yes father?” a deep voice answered and Dick didn't dare to raise his eyes.

“I have brought you a present. I hope this one pleases,” Black Manta said and Dick finally flickered his eyes up, keeping his head low, finding the dark skinned man standing in front of him and looking at him in something Dick could only describe as shocked horror.

“Father,” he started, expression wiping clean.

“It is your birthday,” Black Manta said, resting his hands on his son's shoulders. “You are supposed to enjoy it.” With that he turned, passing Dick on the way to the door and leaving them standing and staring at each other.

“So you,” Kaldur'ahm said. “Are supposed to be my birthday present?”


	22. Chapter 22

Jason's hands were clenched under the table, and he tried to remember every sort of breathing exercise he knew.

“You are unhappy,” the woman who had led Dick away said, sitting next to him. Her back was oddly as stiff as Jason's and he tried not to wonder why. When she came back and sat down, he hadn't bothered to say he knew exactly why she was there. Someone had to watch him and make sure he didn't do anything stupid after all.

“Of course I'm unhappy,” he ground out, fingers curling and uncurling. He _knew_ Dick thought faster with his body then his brain or heart, he knew Dick was covering how panicked he was with a veneer of calm, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about the way Dick had _melted_ into him, the quiet sound deep in his throat when he drew away.

And the bubble in his chest because Dick had kissed him, the way his hands ached because he had held Dick and drawn him closer to him, was slowly being swallowed by the thought that he had no idea what was happening.

He had no idea what the prince was like, or what he even looked like. Was he even still a boy getting his first slave, or was he a man already? Was he tall and slender, or big and wide like Bruce was? He had heard nothing of the prince except seen celebrations—hell the last time he had been in Atlantis he had never even heard mention of a prince or Black Manta's son.

“You are that worried over your slave?” the woman beside him asked and Jason slammed a hand down on the table before he started breathing again. She was staring at him, her brows having inched up.

“Because he's mine,” Jason said, fighting the bile in his throat and the rage in his chest to speak calmly. “Because even if I do own him, I need him. Out in the desert it's different we—have to rely on each other.”

She was staring at him with wide eyes. “And yet you gave him away.”

“I didn't,” Jason bit off. “I didn't give him away. I was informed he was going to be presented to the prince and then, if pleasant enough, to be bought from me. Tell me please how I could have said no to that.”

He was too angry and too desperate, he realized, and was leaving himself too open.

 _I was supposed to save him and get him home_ , part of him wanted to scream and at least he hadn't lost control that much yet.

She was looking at him with pity though. “You aren't from here.”

“Neither of us are,” he snapped.

“Neither was I, originally,” she said and looked away. “I don't think Kaldur would buy him,” she said, voice going distant and Jason tensed. “I'm not sure if that means you'd both get out of here or not but. He's never been interested in owning a pleasure slave before.”

“He's a prince,” Jason said. “Of Atlantis.”

“That's assuming a lot about someone just because of who their parents are,” she snapped and Jason wanted to laugh or cock a brow at her, but managed to remain neutral.

“You know,” Jason said after a beat. “You sound a lot like you're jealous too. In love with your prince?”

Her eyes moved over and there was tension in the line of her shoulders, as if Jason had hit both too close to the mark and totally off. “That is not your concern,” she said. “You're the one in love with your slave. Tell me, does that actually work? Does he make you believe he loves you too just for better treatment?”

“Don't,” Jason snarled and she shrugged, looking back over the garden again. Without Dick there to draw their attention to him, the courtiers stayed away, leaving them alone on the fringes of the party.

“It is often like this?” Jason asked.

“No,” she said, and then, “Sometimes.”

“You don't look like you're having a fun time,” Jason said and she gave him a narrow eyed look. Something in the way she held her head and glared reminded him of Jade, and the way she had cocked her head while bearing down on Roy.

“For people like us,” she said. “That's not the point.”

-0-

Dick dropped to his knees, pressing his hands against the floor. It felt easier then standing there, and harder to be bold when he was on his knees.

“You didn't answer my question,” Kaldur said, voice strained and Dick wanted to look up.

“Was that permission to speak?” he asked, because while direct questions usually seemed to demand answers, he still had no idea what the boundaries were and where he was going to make a mistake.

“Yes,” Kaldur said and Dick heard a rustling as he shifted around. “Do you need that?” he added after a moment and Dick had to look up then, to see the confusion mixed with distaste on the face looking down at him.

“I have been told so,” Dick said after a beat, nearly laying his head on the ground and laughing himself silly at the implication this man was as inexperienced dealing with slaves as he was in pretending to be one.

“Then yes, you have permission to speak to me,” Kaldur said and he had wrestled his voice back under control. Dick was unsure if that boded well or ill. “Will you now answer if you are supposed to be my gift?”

“From your father, yes,” Dick said. “He...” and he paused, looking at Kaldur through his lashes again. “Found me this morning and demanded I be brought here for your inspection.”

“Inspection?” Kaldur asked, voice still flat.

“He did not wish to buy me from my master until he knew if I pleased,” Dick said, spreading his fingers out over the floor, trying not to twitch or clench his fists. He went through everything Connor had been trying to teach him about meditation to keep his breathing steady.

“So your master is here?” Kaldur asked and Dick startled because Kaldur had moved closer.

“Yes,” he said, and he did not want to think of Jason, sitting out in the garden, or the heat of his mouth.

“Do you want to be bought?” Kaldur said after a moment and Dick's head whipped up before he could stop it.

“What?”

He flinched back when Kaldur reached out a hand, tracing over his cheek and Dick suddenly remembered the vivid bruise. “I'm sorry that it hurts,” Kaldur said, and Dick let out a breath because his flinch had been misinterpreted. “You have scars too,” Kaldur added.

“You're asking me... if I want away from him?” Dick asked, slowly.

“Yes,” Kaldur said and Dick gaped at him.

“How,” he started and had to try again. “I mean, I'm sorry, it's just—how would I know you're any better?” he asked before he could stop himself and that caused a full body flinch from Kaldur. Dick blinked.

“You think I would hurt you too,” he said, voice scarily level again.

“I have no idea what you would do,” Dick said, and his voice was too strong for the situation and apparently he could be quite bold from his knees.

“And you don't trust me,” Kaldur said.

“How could I?” Dick asked, voice low and Kaldur stared at him too long. Dick shifted, but refused to drop his gaze.

“You are very bold,” Kaldur said and Dick instantly broke eye contact, shoulders tensing as he looked back at the floor.

His fingers scrabbled around the chilly stone and he could feel panic welling up. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm sorry, I am unused to this, it is different—”

“Where are you from?” Kaldur asked, and Dick shook.

“The desert,” he said and then, because Jason had already said it, “and Gotham.”

Kaldur started, and Dick watched him retreat a few steps. “I did not think there was slavery in Gotham,” he said, and there was something horrifyingly tight in his voice.

“There, there isn't,” Dick said softly, because he had seen the way Roy had reacted to Gotham, let alone the idea of knowing Bruce Wayne. There was a legend, out beyond Gotham's walls he had never realized. “I was, that is, taken, from Gotham.”

When he dared to look up again, Kaldur was staring at him too intently. Tiny shivers went down his spine and he held himself as still as he could.

“Do you miss it?” Kaldur asked. “Gotham.”

“More then I could ever say,” Dick said, choking on the words, because breathing hurt for the fact he was _away_ from his home, from Bruce and the rest of his family and sometimes when it had been his turn on watch he had tried to remember the smell of Barabara's hair, the way Cassandra's mouth curled when she was watching Tim and Steph, the tiny “tt” sound Damian made, and way Bruce looked at him like he was precious. Because he was so far away and it felt like a string tied under his heart, desperately trying to pull him back to the city. “I miss my family, I miss the buildings and knowing where I was going, I even miss the fires at night, I miss,” and he cut off because Kaldur was still an unknown, still a danger.

“How long have you been gone?”

“Too long,” he said, knowing it would be misinterpreted.

Kaldur reached forward again, touching the unmarked side of his face and Dick flinched again. Everything felt too sensitive and close. “You are very beautiful,” he said and Dick wanted to crawl out of his skin just to escape the touch. “My father was not wrong about that.” His fingers stopped on the bottom of Dick's lips and stayed there.

“What can I do to please you?” Dick asked, because he had to, and Kaldur drew his hand back like he was stung.

“Nothing,” he said, voice under control again. “If you wish to return to your master, you may. If you would rather I buy you from him then we will arrange that too.”

Dick opened his mouth and closed it again, dizzy. “And if you did buy me?”

“I have no interest in owning my own pleasure slave,” Kaldur said, barely constrained rage leaking out from underneath his control.

“Even a beautiful one?” Dick asked, before he could stop himself and Kaldur closed his eyes before nodding, the motion tight and controlled.

“Now make a choice so I may have my night back,” Kaldur snapped, and Dick realized that Kaldur wanted him gone as soon as possible.  
  
“You never answered my question. Besides wouldn't it be better to at least stay long enough to allow your father to think you enjoyed the gift?” Dick asked, unable to keep the frown off his face.

“No that is quite,” Kaldur said abruptly as a curtain at the back of the room lifted, stone scraping along stone as the wall moved.

Dick blinked as Kaldur tensed, a curly haired man stepping out from behind the wall and stopping. “What is this?” he asked, looking to Kaldur who froze.

“It,” he started softly. “Is not what it seems.”

“No?” the new man asked and Dick looked back and forth between the two of them.

“He was supposed to be a gift from my father,” Kaldur said, tense. “I got distracted.”

Dick squinted at the man another time before recognizing him. “You were on the street, when we first got here.”

“Yes, you were in front of Ollie's,” the man said.

“Ollie?” Kaldur asked in surprise and Dick whipped his head around to stare at him.

“You know Ollie Queen?” he demanded and the slowly dawning horror on Kaldur's face was answer enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shit eating grin on my face as I typed the last sentence and put a chapter break in the document was probably something to behold. 
> 
> I have no idea if I'm going to be able to update tomorrow! I mean, a miracle could still happen, but no one hold your breath. 
> 
> (Also the tags tend to get updated with characters before they're revealed in story strictly just in case anyone's noticed that or not). (And I've realized there are probably MAJORLY IMPLIED spoilers for the second season of Young Justice here whoops everyone carry on)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, it's something I've commented on in the past and yet somehow always forget that _any time_ I get left alone with a story for more then say, 25,000-30,000 words it WILL spontaneously develop at least one revolution/resistance movement, however tangential or important to the story they are. It will _always_ happen and yet somehow I forget until yet again, it happens.

Kaldur wiped his face blank. “So what if I do?” he demanded.

Dick looked between the other man and Kaldur, frantically trying to think of how to ask if Kaldur _knew_ what Ollie and his family was doing without revealing what Ollie actually was doing. “You're a prince and he's a refugee,” Dick said after a beat and Kaldur had taken another step toward him.

“He is not the type to take pleasure slaves into his home,” he said and Dick tensed.

“You know an awful lot about him as his family,” he said slowly.

“Kaldur,” the other man started.

“Not now, Garth,” Kaldur cut him off.

“Wait, Roy said that name,” Dick said. “In relation to—” and he snapped his mouth shut again, because if somehow Garth was standing in this room and Kaldur _didn't_ know he was connected to Arthur Curry and the resistance Dick couldn't reveal that.

“You seem to know quite a lot about the underground network of resistance,” Kaldur said and they both froze again.

“So do you,” Dick said quietly.

Kaldur stomped away and turned back again. His face was expressionless but there was fear in his eyes. “Are you a spy sent by my father?”

Dick choked on air and Garth was looking between them. “No,” he said. “No, I—I'm not.”

“Then why did he pick you up?” Kaldur asked and he was walking forward again.

“Because he thought I would please you,” Dick said, voice low and angry. “Which is apparently hard to do. I did not wish to come to this room at this time, or ever. Nor was I tasked with anything except to be a pretty gift for you.”

Garth was staring at Kaldur now before he looked back at Dick again. “Who are you?” he asked, and Kaldur's hands were shaking as his side.

“Richard,” he said after a beat, a name he hadn't used since for years, as only one person had ever really used it.

“And you came in from the desert,” Garth said. “With another man and have been staying at Ollie's? Roy said there were two people staying with them and that you were trying to get out of the city.”

“Yes,” Dick said.

“Was that other man your master?” Kaldur asked and Dick contained his flinch at the last moment.

“Yes.”

“Except Ollie would have never had you in his home that many nights if that was the case,” Kaldur said taking a step forward.

“Well I guess we're both not what we're pretending to be,” Dick said, finally throwing himself out on the limb he had been approaching the whole time. “As you're working with the resistance against your own father.”

Kaldur flinched back, folding his arms over his chest.

Pushing himself to his feet, Dick mirrored his posture, hating how little he was wearing. “That is quite an assumption you're making,” Garth said quietly.

“You're the one who's here,” Dick said. “You're the one who came in here before seeing if he was alone, who mentioned Ollie and Roy and—what were you even thinking?”

“This meeting was arranged a long time ago,” Garth said, voice tight. “Everyone else was supposed to be at the party—”

“And you didn't even think to arrange for a signal in case that wasn't the case?” Dick asked. “His father could have been checking on him—anything could have happened and you trusted that simply to plan? You're playing a dangerous game sloppily.”

Garth blinked at him and Dick bit the inside of his lip hard, because not everyone had had Bruce's paranoia drilled into them at a young age. “Excuse me?” Kaldur asked.

“You didn't have a prearranged signal to let the other know if something had gone wrong,” Dick said. “You just relied on a plan as if things couldn't—didn't—change in a heart beat. That is _sloppy_ and going to get you and your movement buried.”

“You're certainly not a pleasure slave,” Garth said and the three of them stared at each other.

“So what now?” Dick asked when the silence became too oppressive.

“You said you were trying to get out of the city,” Garth said.

“Yes,” Dick said quietly.

“Why?” Garth asked and Dick's hands tightened. He could see Kaldur watching him, his eyes dropping to where his knuckles were probably going white.

“Because I was kidnapped,” he got out. “Because since I left, I've been only trying to get back.”

“We could use you here,” Garth said and Dick slowly turned his head to look over at him. His expression was open and earnest as much as Kaldur had closed his own off.

“I'm sorry,” Dick said. “What?”

Garth looked at Kaldur who refused to meet his eyes. “Well,” Garth started. “You're not wrong about how unprepared we are. And you, at least, seem to have some idea—”

“You have no idea who I am,” Dick cut him off. “Where I'm from or what I've done—”

“You said you were from Gotham,” Kaldur said and Dick's spine straightened as Garth stared at him with a sort of awe that made him uncomfortable. “You weren't lying about that, were you?”

“No,” Dick said quietly.

“But somehow I don't think it was quite the way you made it sound earlier,” Kaldur said.

“No,” Dick said again, voice even smaller.

Garth looked him up and down again and Dick wanted to inch away from his eyes. “Dick Grayson,” he said and Dick startled, too obvious and unable to help himself. “You're Dick Grayson, aren't you? You fit his description and—”

“And Jason was so worried everyone would recognize me,” Dick muttered, because he couldn't think fast enough to deny it without looking like a fool.

“But that means—you haven't just been trained under Bruce Wayne's wing you've been working with him—for years!” Garth said, tripping over his words. “You're both legends out here, for everyone—think of what you could do to help us.”

“I have to get back to Gotham,” Dick said, mouth dry, because that had been his flag and the only thing driving him for so long. “You don't understand. We can barely hold Gotham as it is. I don't know why you think we can help anyone else.”

“Because you're here now,” Kaldur said softly and Dick didn't look over at him.

“I have to get back to Gotham,” he repeated again. “I know things are bad here but that's my home and I have already been gone _too long_.”

Kaldur made a disgusted sound. “How like Gotham. Once again leaving the rest of the world to flounder and live off its legend without ever giving anything to the outside world.”

Closing his eyes, Dick breathed. “It's not like that,” he said. “It is, perhaps, not totally untrue but Gotham is at war with itself _every day_ . There's a reason you're impressed with my training and it's because you know, whether you acknowledge it or not at the moment that I've been fighting my whole life. I was kidnapped, I have no idea what I've left behind. I have to go back to Gotham for my _family_ because I don't even know if it's still standing! I don't know if they're alive or dead.”

“Kaldur,” Garth said, quiet. “We can talk to Arthur, try and get them out of the city.”

“Yes,” Kaldur said finally. “We could.” He was still staring at Dick almost in accusation. “I'll have Artemis bring up your—partner? And tell my father the present suited but I had no interest in buying you so you may both leave.”

“Where do you want us to go?” Dick asked, swallowing.

“Back to Ollie's, if you can,” Garth said. “If we can get you out of the city, we'll contact you there.”

“There's someone else,” Dick said. “Slade Wilson. That's why we left Ollie's in the first place, because he had been watching me there.”

“You do not casually attract attention, do you?” Kaldur asked.

Dick flickered his eyes to him, wrapping his arms around his chest. “No,” he said.

“If we can help you,” Garth said. “It will only be a day or two at most until we know.”

“If we cannot,” Kaldur said. “Would you at least consider helping us?”

“I do not think my help is all that you're making it out to be,” Dick said softly, wrapping his arms over his chest again and holding on to himself. “But yes, I would. You will figure it out on your own, though,” he said, like he believed it himself.

Kaldur headed for the door, and Dick trailed after him. The music from the garden had changed, he noticed first, on the landing where he had almost stopped on the way into the room. The garden itself seemed to have changed, bodies moving closer together and Dick noticed a distinct lack of clothing compared to before.

Yet, like before, neither Kaldur nor Black Manta were seen and Kaldur whistled. Even down in the garden, the woman still sitting next to Jason looked up. Kaldur's hands moved through a rapid series of gestures and Dick smiled.

“Sign language is good,” he said under his breath, as the woman's eyes narrowed and she nodded, flicking off a few symbols of her own before leaning to Jason, talking to him. “We use Morse Code but the idea is the same.”

“I have been trying to teach Garth and Arthur,” Kaldur said. “But we rarely have the time.”

“It's a good idea though,” Dick said and looked up and down the hallway as Jason and the woman down below rose, walking for the stairs. “You are—I was harsh before. But your resistance is still alive and that's saying everything. I'm not what you really need here, but I'm still sorry I won't stay.”

“Are you,” Kaldur said, not quite a question.

“Perhaps,” Dick started. “Once Gotham—if Gotham could ever be calm—we should see if we can't create more contacts with the rest of the world again. We've been isolated a long time.”

“It helps your myth,” Kaldur said.

“But it shouldn't, not at the expense of other people,” Dick said and fell silent.

Kaldur looked at him from the shadows of the pillars before the sound of running feet could be heard, Jason having left behind decorum to reach Dick as fast as possible. The woman was right behind him, looking annoyed.

“Artemis, thank you,” Kaldur said as Jason went right for Dick, grabbing him by the arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked, doing everything possible not to look over at Kaldur.

“I'm fine,” Dick rasped because Jason looked frantic and he felt his stomach turn over. “No really, I'm fine, I'm not just saying that.”

“I will not buy him from you,” Kaldur said, and Jason finally looked at him, Dick's hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, trying to ground him. Kaldur's voice was flat, almost bored. “You two are free to go.”

“You son of a,” Jason started, under his breath and Dick tightened his hands on Jason's shoulders.

“Don't,” he hissed. “I said I'm fine.”

“Did he,” Jason started, even though Kaldur was right there.

“Jason,” Dick cut him off, and he was certain he was leaving bruises on Jason's shoulders with how tight he was holding.

Kaldur watched them before he focused his gaze on Dick again. “You should be able to leave from the front door if you like, with this,” and he handed a token very similar to the one Black Manta had given them to get inside to Dick. “Good luck,” he said, gesturing to Artemis who fell in behind him as he walked back to his room.

“Dick,” Jason said quietly.

“Let's go,” Dick said softly. “We need to get back to Ollie's, I'll tell you why later.”

“And you're certain,” Jason started, and Dick realized his hands were shaking on his waist.

“I'm fine,” Dick said again. “I _am_. I'll explain more once we're back, alright?”

Jason squeezed him again, rested his nose in Dick's hair for a fraction of a second before pulling back. “Alright,” he said, but he did not let go of Dick's hand on the way out the stairs and back out to the street. Once they were out of the palace he shrugged out of his leather coat.

“You don't have to,” Dick started.

“I'd rather you not attract anyone's attention in those clothes,” Jason replied and Dick quietly slide the jacket on, not bothering with the series of buckles in the front.

-0-

“I honestly cannot tell if you have the worst luck or the best,” Mia said in some awe, sitting across the table from Dick and Jason. Roy and Ollie had gone to the hotel to fetch what they had left there and Dick still had Jason's coat wrapped around him.

“At this point?” Dick sighed. “I'd say remarkably good. We're not dead.”

Jason was staring at him and Dick shifted, finally turning to meet his eyes. “I still don't understand what happened, exactly,” Jason said. “He didn't touch you, did he?”

“No,” Dick said. “He didn't. I'm not lying to you and I said I was fine.”

“Okay but I'm still thrown as fuck that the prince of _Atlantis_ is part of the resistance against his own _father_ ,” Mia said. “I think we missed something when we moved here.”

“It would make sense to have as few people know as possible,” Dick said and stopped because there was a scrapping sound from the kitchen. He looked quickly at Jason and Mia, who reached under the table for her bow.

Connor rose from where he had been sitting at the stairs, moving over to press his back against the wall, peeking into the kitchen. The scrapping stopped and his eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jason asked, hand on his gun and Dick's fingers curled and uncurled for something to do.

“I believe your meeting is here,” Connor said as two figures swept into the room, the man in front pushing his hood back and Dick blinked because he had a metal hand, that was shaped like a trident.

It made Dick wonder about the golden trident hanging behind Black Manta's desk.

“Hello,” Dick said softly.

“Garth was quite excited when he came to us,” the man said, the woman behind him also removing her hood to reveal bright red hair. “And he said you needed our aid.”

“We would like to get out of the city,” Dick said and Connor and Mia were making gestures at each other behind their guest's back until the red haired woman shot them a look over her shoulder.

“Ollie will be very disappointed to have missed you, Arthur,” Connor said, composing his face back into a serious expression.

Arthur gave him a faint smile, sitting down at the table across from Dick and Jason. “Yes, and I am sorry for it but we had to move quickly.” He looked Dick and Jason up and down. “Garth also said that he and Kaldur mentioned the possibility of you staying and helping us.”

“Yes,” Dick said and Jason's head shot over to stare at him, his hand tightening on Dick's thigh under the table convulsively. “But I have to return to Gotham.”

Arthur nodded, though the woman behind him scowled. “Very well. There is a convoy leaving for Metropolis tomorrow in the morning. We have contacts and can tag you along to it. You will probably have to follow it all the way to Metropolis for it is militarized. Yet some travelers can attach themselves to it, if they agree to follow their rules.”

“All the way to Metropolis?” Dick asked, despair in his voice. “That's two weeks from here! And it's at least a week from there to Gotham!”

“I have no other suggestions for getting you out of the city,” Arthur said. “Even this would call in favors. And yet since I still owe Bruce a couple from before I cannot fault this decision. But it's what you have to take.”

“I have been away from Gotham already far too long,” Dick said.

“Dick,” Jason said from beside him. “I hate to tell you that if there was a time limit on you returning to Gotham, we've already missed it. Now all we can do is survive long enough to get back.”

Biting his lip hard, Dick wrestled his despair and rage back under control. “Alright,” he said. “Thank you, for this gracious favor. I do deeply appreciate it, no matter what it may sound like.”

“You are distressed,” the woman said. “It is understandable. And your control is remarkable.”

Dick glanced at Jason, who was not looking back at him. “Thank you,” he said. “For coming, too. And for this.”

“You have your own transportation?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Jason said.

“Good,” Arthur said, rising. “That will make it easier. You'll have to be up early tomorrow and at the gates.”

“We will,” Dick said, voice low. It was late already and he was exhausted.

“Mera,” Arthur said and she took his hand when he held it out. “Good night,” Arthur said, nodding to Connor and Mia and they were out through the trapdoor on the floor of the kitchen as quickly as they had come.

“What's down there?” Dick asked, not having moved yet.

“The system that powers the city,” Connor said. “I guess you could use it as tunnels, though you would have to be very careful and know exactly where you were going.”

Jason rested his hand over Dick's on the table, and Dick lifted his head to meet his gaze. “We are going back to Gotham,” Jason said. “It's just one more detour.”

“I know,” Dick said, even though he didn't feel like they were anywhere closer to going home. “I'm tired,” he added, quiet. “I just want to sleep as much as we can before the morning comes.”

“Alright,” Jason said, looking like he wanted to push _something_ more but instead he drew his hand back and Dick breathed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so at this point I'm pretty much gonna end up writing an AU of my AU because I am way to into Atlantis, even though this was supposed to be a relatively brief stop on the road trip back to Gotham. But man, there's no way I'm not coming back to this in some way or another at some point.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no chapter last night, but as anyone who saw my tumblr last night learned, I decided upon coming home from work to drink a lot of wine and play Lego Batman instead. 
> 
> It was one of those nights.
> 
> On one hand I'm super sad to say goodbye to Atlantis for right now but I'm super excited for the next major arc.

Dick woke up, pressed against Jason's back and blinked, because he had rolled over at some point, curling up so his head was pressed between his shoulder blades. “Jason,” he said softly, when he could.

 

“Yeah?” Jason asked, his voice clear and not sleep roughed which answered Dick's first question.

 

“Do we need to go soon?” Dick asked and Jason nodded. “Okay,” and Dick rolled away because anything else still felt like too much. Sitting up, he stretched out the kinks in his back, and neck, pausing at the press of cold metal at his throat. Frowning, he touched the collar he had fallen asleep in, realizing that since Black Manta had clicked it around his throat he had never taken it off. 

 

Reaching his fingers to the back he pressed down, trying to find the clasp. 

 

“What's the matter?” Jason asked, pushing himself up on their pile of blankets in the kitchen. 

 

“This,” Dick said and Jason seemed to finally realize he wasn't wearing the lace collar they had bought, but instead one of actual metal. “I didn't even think about getting it taken off last night and...” 

 

“It's a lock, not a clasp,” Jason said, and Dick froze. 

 

“Can you get it open?” he asked. 

 

“When did you even get this?” Jason asked, and his fingers were warm on the back of Dick's neck as he felt around the collar. Dick didn't suppress his shiver in time, still too close to sleep. For a second Jason's fingers stilled before he purposefully ran the tips down Dick's neck and to the top of his spine. 

 

“Jason,” Dick said warningly, shivering again. 

 

“Sorry,” Jason mumbled. “That prince didn't—”

 

“No,” Dick said. “His father wanted to make sure I was prepared for his son first. He gave me this.”

 

“Dick, I don't have a key or any idea how to pick a lock like this if I did,” Jason said. “It's designed to not be picked by run away slaves. Slavers have keys I don't.”

 

“Damn,” Dick hissed. “Kaldur might not even have realized it wasn't yours...” 

 

Jason's hands withdrew and Dick could breath easy again. “We need to get going if we're to be there in time,” Jason said. “When we get to Metropolis...”

 

“That's in two weeks,” Dick hissed. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Jason said, and he sounded sincere so Dick hung his head for having snarled at him. 

 

“I'll be fine,” Dick said, his hand coming up to the collar and curling his fingers in it. “We can say it was a gift from the prince for a night well spent, or something.”

 

Jason tensed and Dick could see it out of the corner of his eye, but Jason only nodded, turning his attention back to his kit. With a sigh, Dick unfolded himself and started unrolling the gauzey strips and find the clothes he had been traveling in. 

  
Yet he carefully packed the outfit in with what other meager supplies they had. “In case something comes up,” he said when Jason stared at him. “Unless you want to waste more money on clothes.”

 

“No,” Jason muttered, looking away and Dick hated that the shirt he had did nothing to obscure the collar. 

 

By the time they were packed, Ollie and his family had started to trickle down. “We'll miss you,” Mia said, hanging back on the stairs. 

 

“It wouldn't be so bad if you stayed,” Ollie said, and Dick bit his tongue. 

 

Roy though scooped him up into a tight hug, almost taking him completely off the floor. “What?” he asked, laughing. 

 

“If you see Lian,” Roy said and Dick's face softened, hands braced on Roy's shoulders. “She's in Metropolis, you know. If you see her, give her that for me?”

 

“I will,” Dick said, squeezing his shoulders as Roy put him back down. 

 

Ollie silently handed him a packet as Roy hit Jason in the shoulder and ruffled his hair. “For Dinah,” he said, and Dick could see the same hollow longing in his eyes that Roy had for Lian. Dick wondered if he had that expression too, every time Bruce's name came out of his mouth, and if he was weaker then they were, for desperately needing to return to Gotham and Bruce while they somehow lived with their separation for a greater cause. 

 

Except Tim and Damian's warnings kept knocking around his head,  _we would die if you left_ and it had been Damian of all people who said it. He had also said Bruce would turn Gotham into a funeral pyre and he wondered if they had given him up as dead yet. 

 

“I'll get it to her,” Dick promised, uncertain if he would be able to keep that promise but determined to try. 

 

“Thank you,” Ollie said and Connor came to give him a quiet hug, and Dick sank into.

 

“You really should try meditating,” Connor said, because Dick was tense and desperate. “It might help,” Connor said and Dick pressed a tiny hysteric laugh into his shoulder.

 

-0-

 

In the middle of the night, a packet had arrived on the kitchen floor, with the proper papers and tokens for passage with the convoy. Nevertheless Dick waited with his breath caught in his lungs as the head of the convoy looked over the whole packet meticulously. 

 

“Well,” he said finally, eyeing Dick and his collar. “It looks like everything checks out here. You must have been quite impressive to get permission to leave the city,” and he was leering now. Dick gave him a vacant smile, Jason's hand tightening on Dick's. 

 

“We have our own transportation of course,” Jason said. “So are we all set?”

 

“Yes,” the man said, handing them back their papers. “Get ready, we'll leave in half an hour. And be sure to follow all our rules as we travel.”

 

“Of course,” Jason said with a nod. He turned, pulling Dick along through their joined hands. “This is going to be a long two weeks,” he said under his breath. “Hopefully since there is no privacy at all, everyone will assume shyness or something on my part.” 

 

Dick didn't bother to ask  _instead of public sex_ ? 

 

“Two weeks isn't that long,” he said, eyes darting around and there were mostly military men around them, in mostly green uniforms with odd dark purple accents, and holding very large guns. 

 

“Sure,” Jason said, bending over the bike to make sure all the supplies were stowed properly, and Dick turned around to find Slade standing almost on his toes. Startling, he took a step back. 

 

“Ah dear,” Slade said, tracing his fingers along the bruise on Dick's cheek. “That did turn out rather badly, didn't it?” 

 

“It's not the worse I've had,” Dick said, even though there were plenty of people around them because he knew that dropping his eyes off this man would be more dangerous then any other action he could take. 

 

“I do wonder,” Slade said and Jason had turned around, and Dick felt his arm go around his waist, holding on to him so they were both facing this man down. “Exactly how you got hooked up to this little caravan.”

 

“How did you?” Jason demanded. “You looked like a petty gangster last I saw.”

 

“Is that what I looked like?” Slade asked, and his mouth curled into a smile. “I'm heartened to hear it. Even if it's as far from the truth as you can get.” His eyes dropped to Dick's throat and Dick swallowed convulsively, only reminding himself of the metal there. “Let's just say that having contacts among the powerful is useful. As I'm sure you're starting to notice,” and he reached out, tapping the collar and Dick barely held himself still. “How did the prince enjoy his gift? Black Manta was so pleased with himself for finding you, and yet you seem to be leaving the city instead of sitting in the palace.”

 

Dick's mouth went totally dry. “I was pleasing,” he said, faintly. “Enough to grant me a boon, but not to keep me.”

 

“Was it because you do not have any of the proper training?” Slade asked. 

 

Jason snarled at him and Dick met his eyes. “I may not have fancy training, but I know how to please.”

 

Slade laughed, a deep rumble in his chest and Dick could see the incredulous look Jason was giving him. “Oh, I'm sure you know how to please,” Slade said and someone called for him. Instead of turning instantly, he bent down, lifting Dick's free hand and brushing his mouth against the back of it, making Dick's shoulders twitch. “I'm sure I will enjoy getting to know you these next weeks.”

 

“Shit,” Jason managed as he walked away, casual and in complete confidence of his surroundings posing no danger to him.

 

“He works for the warlords,” Dick murmured. “Directly, it sounds like.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. His eyes went to the bruise and Dick turned his head away. 

 

“Come on,” he said, because they heavy gates were opening and it looked like they were starting to move. 

 

“Well, at least this time we aren't as likely to get lost in the desert,” Jason said, trying to keep his tone light, as he climbed on the bike, Dick behind him. 

 

“Yeah,” Dick said listlessly, paying more attention to looking back at Atlantis as they inched through its heavy gates and out into the desert air. The black spires reached up over their heads and Dick wrapped his arms around Jason's middle, grounding himself there instead of the niggling thought that he was making the wrong choice.

 

-0-

 

Cassandra hung from the rafters, watching Tim and Damian train. 

 

Tim was still moving too slow, but he was working with single minded intensity at the weights. 

 

“You're going to strain yourself,” Damian said, sounding idle and careless, even though he had been watching Tim like a hawk all morning, and thus neglecting his own training. He had only made half of his hits and had jogged at barely three fourths of his usual pace around the gym Bruce had built, underneath the city hall.

 

“It's the only way I'm going to get back into shape,” Tim said. “There's only you and Steph right now, we're down to half strength.”

 

“And Cassandra,” Damian said. 

 

“Sure,” Tim said. “But she's always with Bruce.”

 

Cassandra wondered if they had noticed her up above them yet, where she hung from her knees, arms crossed over her chest. She had seen pictures of bats that would sleep like this, and was wondering how long she could stand it. 

  
To be fair, she thought, watching them circle each other, sniping about Tim's health, she was usually with Bruce. The only reason she wasn't watching his back right then was because he was with Barbara and Steph, who would both protect him as well as he could. And Barbara had looked quite instense when she arrived. 

 

Cassandra even slept in the same room he did, and wasn't precisely sure he had noticed that yet or not, as she made her bed up in his ceiling.

 

“I've been checking in more,” Damian said suddenly and Cassandra focused back on them quickly. 

 

Tim had frozen, a strange look on his face. “Yes,” he said slowly. “You have been. More like when Dick was around,” and they both stopped, raw pain on their faces. She wondered what it would be like, to be such open books, to be so vulnerable and raw in emotion. 

 

“Aren't you pleased?” Damian huffed and Tim reached forward, trailing his fingers down Damian's jaw, and his eyes were trained on the jump in Damian's throat. His fingers reached Damian's chin and hesitated there, tracing up to lightly brush his mouth.

 

“Yes,” Tim said, and Damian's eyes were on Tim's. They were both breathing a little differently, Tim's chest rising and falling in short bursts. “It's good to know you're alive during the night instead of when you just get home. Means you and Steph can better coordinate.”

 

“I do not like bothering to coordinate with her,” Damian huffed. “She is foolish and stupid and—”

 

“She's not Dick,” Tim cut off, and there was something sharp in his voice. “I know that. But she's good, as good as us, and you _will_ work with her.”

 

“Or what?” Damian demanded, puffing his chest out and Tim was tilting closer to him in increments. “Besides, she might be as good as _you_ are, but not me.”

 

“Point stands,” Tim said. “Work with her.”

 

“Or _what_?” Damian repeated with more heat and Tim's hand was still on his cheek, and Damian had gotten bigger then Tim, he was wider too, and yet Tim was totally unafraid to stand in his shadow and command him with his eyes.

 

Cassandra had stopped breathing just to not miss anything. 

 

“If you die,” Tim said. “Or if you stupidity gets your killed—” he broke off, eyes darkening. “You won't get this anymore.”

 

“And you think that is such a boon?” Damian asked as Tim leaned up, replacing his hand with his mouth and Cassandra's eyes would have been comically big if anyone else had seen her because even though all their body language had been pointing to this she had not _expected_ , had not believed it. 

 

But Tim was holding on to Damian's waist and Damian had his hands in Tim's hair, tilting his head back and devouring his mouth, licking and biting his way into it and Cassandra could hear the tiny puffs of Tim's breath, the way his fingers curled tighter against Damian and he let his head fall back under the assault.

 

Like he welcomed the invasion and was asking for more. 

 

She folded herself quietly up and crawled down the rafter until she climb up onto the first level of the basement, away from their gym and back into their sleeping quarters. 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why i don't make outlines of my own fics, because just when I have it under control... I don't.

“Are you still sleeping?” Cassandra asked into the almost total darkness and Steph startled awake.

 

“Huh, what? Cass?”  
  


“You were still sleeping,” Cassandra said, voice mournful. “I'm sorry.”

 

“No, it's okay,” Steph said, rubbing sleep out of her eyes even though it was totally dark around them. Cassandra had the ability to move around in total blackness that Steph envied. “I'm awake now.”

 

There was a rustle and she finally pinpointed where Cassandra was, reaching out to twine their hands together. “What's up?” she asked, forcing her voice to be light in face of the panic she felt.

 

“It's nothing,” Cassandra said and they were both silent.

 

“Sure, try the other one,” Steph finally said.

 

“It is nothing life threatening,” Cassandra amended. “I believe.”

 

“You are not really inspiring the troops tonight,” Steph said, tilting her head. “In fact, you're causing them to panic.”

 

There was a snort, not quite a laugh from Cassandra and Steph counted it as a victory anyway.

 

“Perhaps,” Cassandra said and hesitated again. “It is not my secret to tell,” she said the words slowly, like she was feeling them out. “But I'm worried.”

 

“Is it Bruce?” Steph asked because he had been getting quieter and quieter and wilder at the same time and she still remembered the Joker falling over from the bullet Bruce shot—Bruce who told them all not to kill over and over until it was second nature to feel sick at the sight of guns and of killing, Bruce who was solid and steady and ran this _city_ , losing his mind and attacking and she still didn't know what to do.

 

“No,” Cassandra said. “He will be waking up soon, most like.”

 

“And you'll need to be back with him,” Steph said, long past angry. She had been once, though.

 

“Yes,” Cassandra said. “Tim is kissing Damian.”

 

Steph choked on air, her hand tightening where she still was holding Cassandra's. “ _What_?”

 

“That's what was bothering me,” Cassandra said. “Tim and Damian—I think it started after Tim was injured. I don't know. I don't know what they're doing. I think they're trying to keep it a secret but it wasn't the first time either.”

 

“Tim,” Steph repeated. “ _My_ Tim is kissing the demon child?”

 

She felt Cassandra freeze and that alone told her something had landed wrong. “I thought he was not your Tim anymore,” Cassandra said slowly. “I thought you two—”

 

“We're, uh, not together,” Steph said warily. “Not for a long time. That doesn't mean I don't care about him and don't—but kissing Damian? God, that means lips that have touched mine have touched that fucker's too and that is just not right.”

 

Cassandra was still too stiff. “You won't tell anyone, will you?” she asked, hesitant and quiet.

 

“This,” Steph started. “I mean, I know Dick and Barbs, and me and Tim, and we've always been stupid about each other by stint of being around _Bruce_ , but, this could be dangerous, Cass.”

 

“I know,” she said, voice tight. “I know. But I don't want you to tell.”

 

Steph pursed her lips, wishing she could see Cassandra's face. “I won't,” she said, quiet in the blackness around them. “I won't tell unless it's gonna be really dangerous, okay? Can I yell at Tim, though?”

 

“Not yet,” Cassandra said. “I want to watch them more.”

 

“Okay,” Steph said, squeezing her fingers. “You doing okay, otherwise?”

 

“Of course,” Cassandra said. “Stay safe on the streets,” she added and was gone and Steph didn't even remember letting go of her hand before it was suddenly not there anymore.

  
With a sigh, she flopped back down on her pallet, spreading her arms and legs out and frowning at the ceiling she couldn't see above her.

 

“Tim and Damian,” she said to the darkness and emptiness around her. “Damnit.”

 

-0-

 

Dick flexed his fingers, watching Jason set up the roll he had bought in Atlantis. He had originally only bought one considering they would probably sleep in turns again. Now, with everyone staring at them it meant there were no awkward questions about why they might sleep in other beds.

 

“You don't have to worry about the night,” a passing soldier in their green said. “We keep watch, and no scavengers would dare approach us.”

 

“Right,” Jason had said and Dick had ducked his head to hide his smile.

 

“You aren't going to sleep as long as I am, are you?” he had asked, pressed against Jason's side with his mouth up against his ear.

 

“No,” Jason had shot back and when he turned his head Dick blinked at how close their faces were and for a moment they stared at each other, mouth's a breath away. Jason's hand was warm and heavy against his side and Dick swallowed, not quite daring to drop his gaze or pull away until Jason did.

 

“It's not very conductive to thinking,” was all Jason said, putting as much distance between them as possible without everyone noticing.

 

Dick had frowned and dropped his head.

 

Now he watched Jason's broad back, thinking about the way Jason's chest felt when he was shoved against it, the heat of his hands and the way he looked at Dick when he couldn't help it. Dick's fingers ached so he wrapped them around the collar, tracing the odd patterns in the metal as he watched Jason move.

 

It wasn't the first time it came out of no where, the sudden realization of another person's body in relation to his own when before there had just been space and a friendly sort of companionship. His attraction to Barbara had felt like it came between one breath and the other, when he suddenly looked at her, sprawled out over their sleep pallets and felt a surge of want hard enough to take his breath away.

 

He had leaned over, kissed her and swallowed her surprised gasp. Because they had fought together for months, had ran up and down the streets of Gotham and endured Bruce's glares together and yet—and yet it still felt so sudden when he realized he wanted to kiss her too.

 

“I didn't think you wanted this,” she had said, eyes shining.

 

“Does it bother you?” he had asked, worried and concerned and desperate all at once. “Should I not have? I'm sorry, it doesn't have to—” And she had twined her arms around his neck and yanked him down, rolling them over to straddle him and he had laughed into her chest, fingers tangling in her hair.

 

And now he watched Jason and it was the same and different, the shift between friendship and affection and being so _aware_ of the other.

 

What horrible timing.

 

His fingers were starting to hurt because he had clenched them down so hard.

 

“Are you alright?” Jason asked, turning around finally and Dick swallowed, throat bumping against the skin warmed metal.

 

“I'm fine,” he said, and he was watching Jason too avidly.

 

“You sure?” Jason asked, quirking his brow up and Dick looked away, to where a soldier was patrolling just in front of them, and where another group was playing with circular scraps of cards in the same lantern light they were sitting in.

 

“Yes,” he said and looked at the sand between his feet. There was a shifting motion and Jason sat down beside him, and Dick leaned into his side because he was expected to, but also because he wanted to.

 

Jason hesitated before his hand came up, tangling in Dick's hair and Dick sucked in air through his nose, not quite keeping it quiet. Jason stopped for a moment before he deliberately stroked his fingers through Dick's hair and down his neck to the top of his spine, making Dick quake. “Don't,” he whispered, eyes darting around.

 

“I'm sorry,” Jason said and pressed his nose to the top of Dick's head, using his hair so no one could see his lips moving. “I can't help it.”

 

Dick's attention was caught on his hands. “I think I've made at least the start of a decision,” he whispered, and a loud laugh covered the way Jason drew back to stare at him.

 

“You cannot leave me hanging until a better, more private moment,” Jason said, voice strained. “Dick you cannot—”

 

Dick tilted forward, barely touching their mouths together, his hands still clenched in his lap. Jason groaned though, his hands clenching down on Dick and holding him there. “You need to say it,” he said, when Dick drew back, eyes wide. “You have to say it or I'll never believe you.”

 

“What do you want me to say?” Dick whispered, meeting his eyes far too boldly but no one seemed to really be watching them.

 

Those words caused Jason to start and draw away. Dick wrapped a hand in the front of his shirt, holding him there. “I'm not good at this,” he said.

 

“I know,” Jason muttered. “Though it's fair to ask who of us _is_.”

 

Dick tried not to smile, too stupidly aware of how close others were to them and they felt like they might be in their own bubble, but they weren't at all. “Okay,” he whispered. “True.”

 

Jason kept staring at him and he swallowed hard, hiding his face in the crook of Jason's neck for a moment, breathing in the sweat of him and before he could think it through, he kissed Jason there too, a light press before drawing back.

 

“I'm not certain,” he said. “Entirely, about how I feel. It's not easy to, to put words to this,” he said. “But I can't stop staring at you and wanting and feeling like my chest is going to cave in. I've always loved you, Jay, when you were a stupid kid who tried to hide his smiles behind a scowl. When you asked me, so long ago, to come with you, I didn't answer because it _hurt_ too much to want to go with you and know I wouldn't and I hated you for even asking—” he said it all in a quiet rush and against the skin of Jason's throat, and he was shaking against his side.

 

When he finally looked up, Jason was staring down at him with dark eyes before Jason dragged him up by his shoulders, slamming their mouths together and Dick whimpered, swinging his leg around so he was in Jason's lap, and one of Jason's hands came down to cup the back of his thigh, helping him balance there as Jason bit his bottom lip and sucked on it, Dick's hands going from his chest to his shoulders and around to cling to his back.

 

“I hate you,” Jason whispered against his mouth. “I hate you _so much_ right now, I hate you,” and Dick used Jason's open mouth to suck on his tongue, shifting in his lap again.

 

Everything was so warm and Dick felt like he might have been on fire and for a second he forgot where they were, and the heavy metal at his throat, and the constant threat of being found out and just kissed Jason hard enough his mouth ached.

 

Until a whistle went through the night and he jerked away, hiding his face in Jason's throat. “Are you going to give us a show?” one of the soldiers called.

 

“No,” Jason snarled back, his arms wrapped around Dick's back and Dick focused on breathing again.

 

“It's gonna be a long two weeks with your pleasure boy then,” the soldier laughed and Jason's arms tightened around Dick. “What's the point of having him if you won't indulge?”

 

“Because I do,” Jason said. “When others aren't leering at us.”

 

“Aw, are you shy?” the soldiers all laughed and Dick peeked over Jason's shoulder enough to see Slade Wilson standing, leaning against one of the heavy metal trucks and smirking at them. “That's so cute. Is your slave as shy as you are?”

 

“No,” Jason snapped. “But that's my business, not yours, and you aren't getting a show.” He rose abruptly, dragging Dick with him back around the bike and to where he set up the roll, which barely gave them any protection or privacy at all. “This,” he said, into Dick's ear and Dick shivered because everything was too sensitive. “Is why I hate you.”

 

“Not good timing,” Dick whispered and Jason's hands tightened convulsively on his waist before he nodded. “Really bad timing,” Dick added and he had to kiss Jason again, even though it made Jason groan in frustration.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two days without a chapter. I actually got a very sweet and worried message on tumblr *laughs* You readers are awesome. (That being said I had a migraine and am still dealing with aftershock headaches as well as some other RL troubles and stuff but I'm okay. Just... had stuff to deal with).
> 
> And with that there probably won't be a chapter in the next three days either because I'm going to comic con (Rose City Comic Con to be precise). I'm a little worried to be going to comic con with my Batman feels riding this high (I mean, hell, I'm wearing a Nightwing dress at least one day) 
> 
> "Control" by Hasley is what got me through this chapter (We won't talk about how many times I had to rewrite Harvey okay)

Harvey Dent leaned against the wall, looking up at the low clouds as he flipped the coin in his hand. He had already made the only flip that  _mattered_ earlier, and now it was only a nervous tic. 

 

“You asked for me?” and he looked up, laughing, because Bruce was standing on an old fire escape that looked like it could not hold his weight, looking down at him.

 

“You couldn't come out your own front door?” he said, the acid scared side of his face making his smile lopsided and downright frightening. 

 

“It's too obvious,” Bruce said, and he alighted from the fire escape, in front of Harvey. Sometimes he thought Bruce should actually cloak himself in the shadows he seemed so comfortable with. When they had been young, it had been Bruce's _thing_ to use the night to attack and every time Harvey thought about that he wanted to stab Bruce in the neck all over again.

 

“So you go out your own roof and jump to the next building before coming down,” Harvey drawled, flipping the coin again and he watched Bruce's eyes lift up after the arc of the coin. “Some would say you're downright a mess.”

 

“Perhaps you would still hold Gotham if you weren't so pathological yourself,” Bruce said and when the coin came down, Harvey gripped it tight, the sides cutting into the flesh of his hand. “You and yours.”

 

“Mine,” Harvey said, and he spotted Bruce's little shadow still on the roof. It didn't surprise him they weren't alone, but it made old anger flare in his chest. “This whole city could have been mine.”

 

“Instead you hold power over a motley band of gimmicky psychopaths,” Bruce said. 

 

“And you think I'm their leader?” Harvey asked. “How sweet.”

 

“I think you think you are,” Bruce said, “Especially now that the Joker is no longer on the streets and you've moved happily into his territory.”

 

Harvey's face twisted, expression more obvious on the smooth skin. “So tell me,” he said. “What a wise idea it is to keep that wolf tied up among your sheep? Or have you finally killed him and just not told us?”

 

“Why would I do that?” Bruce asked with a wry smile and Harvey's fingers twitched to choke the life from him again. “Besides, my kids aren't sheep.”

 

“Aren't they?” Harvey laughed, and he could see Bruce's little shadow shift at the top of the building opposite them. “You've lied to them as long as you've gathered those little strays to your side. You call us pathological, but you're still the scared boy trying to make up for your lost father by pretending to be one.”

 

“Are you done?” Bruce asked, his brow arching in one long motion.

 

Harvey pushed off from the wall, one hand jabbing through the air toward Bruce who stayed as still as a mountain. “They're sheep because you've never even told them about yourself. You want to be a perfect savior, a man of civilization and order and all good things that the world rejected when it destroyed itself. You've set yourself up to be a relic, Bruce. And I bet they bought that line, hook line and sinker.”

 

It was a phrase Harvey had always heard, but he had no idea why anyone would sink a hook. He thought it might have had something to do with the old ocean.

 

“There is nothing to buy,” Bruce rumbled. 

 

“Yes there is!” Harvey yelled, and there were reasons they danced around each other in this city, reasons beyond his immeasurable hate for those boys that Harvey often went after Dick and Tim and had gone after Jason before going after Bruce himself. “You've created such a lovely image of yourself, Bruce, but we both know how untrue it is. Either you've told them the things you did to come to power or you didn't.”

 

Bruce stared at him and Harvey flicked the coin back up into the air, catching it before he looked at Bruce again.

 

“Though, what am I saying?” he said, lightness entering his voice again. “It hardly matters at the rate they're dropping like flies—” and he barely got the words out before Bruce was slamming him back against the wall, hand huge and hot on his throat. Harvey laughed through the pain and the bruise he was certain was forming.

 

“Was that a threat?” Bruce snarled and Harvey just laughed. 

 

“You won't kill me,” Harvey said. “Stop even pretending. You haven't even killed the Joker and he's the one that took _both_ of them away from you. I mean, sure, either or both could still be alive but after Jason left the city he never really came back to you, did he? Do you think the outside world is gonna change Dick just as much or no? Think he's gonna come back to you at all?”

 

“Shut up,” Bruce said and Harvey wanted to twist the knife in as deep as he could go.

 

“I mean, sure,” and he brought his hands up to brace on Bruce's arm, shoving him back enough that breathing was easy again and Bruce let him. “He could still be alive. Except if that's the case, why hasn't he come back yet?” Bruce's eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, I hope it's going to be worse then that.”

 

“Do you?” Bruce rumbled, like he knew where this was going to go and Harvey wanted to throw his head back and howl. 

 

“I hope he betrays you too,” Harvey said. “I hope the golden boy, your first little broken bird that you took in and loved and tortured in equal parts to make him your goddamn weapon, I hope he leaves you too. Jason was always a wild canon, you know? His rage was going to kill someone one day and at least it hasn't been you yet. He tried though, right? Because you betrayed him? Like everyone else you've ever betrayed,” Harvey practically spit the last word. “So I hope you get what's still coming to you, for being a betrayer yourself. I hope the one creature you love most in this fucking awful world, the one that's made you fight the hardest for whatever the fuck it is you believe in, I hope he betrays you.”

 

Harvey managed not to say  _so then you'll know what it feels like_ , but it was a close call.

 

Bruce shoved him back into the wall hard enough he bounced off it, biting off his hiss of pain. “Why did you call me out here, Harvey?” he asked, and there were the threads of his control, fraying literally as Harvey watched. “To gloat?”

 

“Oh yes,” Harvey said, rubbing the back of his head and he flipped the coin again. Like usual, Bruce's eyes followed it because he had learned when he was young, still just a kid, that lives could hang on that coin. “And,” Harvey looked at the scared face of the coin, the acid having eaten away the old silver etching. “Well,” he smiled, meeting Bruce's eyes in the shadows. “You might want to look out for the rest of your strays, hm?”

 

“Is that a threat?” Bruce asked.

 

“Of course it's a threat,” Harvey said. “The Joker's out of play at the moment. Someone else has to pick up his slack and those dear young ones just can't go without being threatened every time they dare to leave your fortress.” 

 

“I could lock you up with him,” Bruce said. 

 

“Ah,” Harvey felt the edge of his mouth curl up. “No. You won't. Not unless I actually do kill one of them. And then you'll be down how many exactly?”

 

When Bruce didn't answer, he turned, strolling down the alleyway, whistling and he could feel the weight of Bruce's eyes between his shoulder blades.

 

Except he couldn't help a parting shot. “You know,” he called back. “Those who betray others always get what's coming back to them.”

 

-0-

 

The last four days had passed in monotony and more or less silence. 

 

Dick understood he should be thankful, he should be on his knees grateful for that, but he was itching in his skin and desperate to throw himself at the walls closing in around his mind. 

 

On the other hand, aside from some leering ribbing, most of the convoy was barely paying him or Jason any attention. They were too focused on getting through the desert without trouble. A few times Dick thought he saw flashes of light off in the high cliffs, and wondered if scavengers were following them much as they had out of desperation, or in an attempt to pick out the weaker followers.

 

The morning of the fifth day brought clouds, rumbling up in the sky like they were going to turn into a storm. Dick was watching the sky above them as Jason made his last check of the bike when there was a commotion up front. “Think they're arguing about the storm?” Jason asked. 

 

“Probably,” Dick said. “We're pretty exposed out here.”

 

“Survived worse,” Jason said with a grin and Dick had to duck his chin to hide his smile.

 

“Through sheer dumb luck,” he said, leaning against the bike and Jason watched the soldiers as they moved around, calling commands to each other. “It's fine,” he added after a beat. “I'll watch the bike.”

 

Before Jason could protest, one of the milling soldiers called for him, gesturing him over and with how everyone had been more or less leaving them alone, Jason left with one look back at Dick. 

 

Dick scanned the area around him, eyes stopping on one of the high ledges around them. There were figures against the sky, and were standing too clearly to be anything but a warning. Shading his eyes, he squinted, wondering if the figure in the front was Talia, or if it was another of the Leagues that lived out in the desert. 

 

“The Leagues,” a voice said and he tensed without moving as Slade came up beside him.

 

“Yes,” Dick agreed, keeping his eyes out on the desert and wondering if Jason had noticed yet.

 

“Funny,” Slade remarked. “Your boy often doesn't leave you alone. So tell me. If he your bodyguard or are you just two idiots too gone on each other so you had to run away from home and only then realized how much trouble you were in?”

 

“Why does it have to be either?” Dick asked, voice low. 

 

Slade flashed him a grin, his teeth shockingly bright against his weathered face. “Because you aren't a slave and master just trying to make it out in the desert.”

 

“No?” Dick asked. 

 

“You would never have gotten out of Atlantis if that was the case,” Slade said. “First of all. Besides, we already went over what a good little slave you are.”

 

Dick titled his head back, looking up at the ledge again, and wishing he could get a message somehow to Talia, if that was her.

 

“And how did you get on this convoy then?” Dick asked, sucking on the inside of his cheek to try and belay himself from saying anything else. 

 

“A man can hardly tell all his secrets,” Slade said.

 

“It must be nice to be trusted by the warlords enough to be their courier,” Dick said. “Or is it insulting?” 

 

“So you're not even trying to pretend any more,” Slade said, amused. 

 

“Is there a point to, with you?” Dick asked, and he dared to look over and up. 

 

“No,” Slade said, smiling again and he curled his fingers underneath Dick's chin, tilting his head back slightly and making his breath catch. “What a creature you are.”

 

“Don't touch me,” Dick rasped and Slade dropped his hand. 

 

“I may be a courier at the moment,” Slade agreed. “But you might not want to say that too loud or who I'm working for or I'll have to ask what exactly you did for or to the prince to convince him to give you such a boon.” 

 

“I don't know—” Dick started, fear squirming in his stomach. 

 

“No, of course you don't,” Slade murmured. “I would never imply something that could be so dangerous as that.” 

 

Dick's mouth thinned and he tried to keep the panic off his face. He wasn't sure it was working when his eyes widened. “Good,” he said, and when he looked back the figures had finally disappeared. 

 

“You know,” Slade said, conversationally. “You've made quite a few mistakes.”

 

“Have I,” Dick said, not lifting his voice at the end to make it a real question.

 

“You should have tried to hide harder,” Slade said, as if he was giving a child advice. “You have no idea the dangerous world you just stepped in to.”

 

“Really?” Dick tried not to laugh. “I have more of an idea then you think.”

 

“Ah,” Slade drawled. “Pride. What a glorious idea for you.” He turned and waited until Dick finally brought his eyes up to meet his. “As a pleasure slave, you're pretty,” Slade said, low, and the words rumbled in the space between them. It felt intimate and Dick wanted to slink away more then anything in the world. “Pretty enough to catch eyes, including mine.” 

 

“Yes, I think I'm aware of that,” Dick said and Slade laughed, the air brushing Dick's check. 

 

“But as what you actually are,” Slade said. “You're much more interesting. Such a beautiful and passionate and foolish creature as you is worth a lot.”

 

“Is that a warning or a threat?” Dick asked, curious because he couldn't actually tell. 

 

“You're trained,” Slade said. “You can fight and think and you look quite pretty in soft leather and a collar. It's intoxicating and I suggest trying not to let anyone else know.”

 

“So you can keep me to yourself?” Dick asked. 

 

“You know,” Slade said. “You might seriously find yourself some day considering the need for a protector.”

 

“And you could protect me better then him?” Dick asked, jerking his head in the direction where Jason had last been.

 

“Oh, darling,” Slade laughed, brushing the back of his knuckles down Dick's face and making him shiver and barely refrain from jerking his head back. “I could. It's cute you even have to ask. You've already guessed who I work for, and they're going to be the biggest danger to you when they figure out who you are.”

 

Dick's eyes went wide. “Who I—” but Slade was already walking away and he dared not call after him.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got home from Con and promptly got super sick. Today was the first day at all I could sit up for more then 15 minutes at a time. Anyway that's why this is late. 
> 
> (Man I've been writing this story almost two whole months now...)

Pamela looked around the street before running after Harley. “You don't even know if he's still alive,” she said, but Harley kept walking.

 

“I have to save him,” she said, and her hair was even more wild then it usually was, lackluster and hanging in her face.

 

“Except you have no idea if he's alive or not,” Pamela said, grabbing her arm and pulling her around. Twilight was falling around them and soon enough the bonfires would be starting up to light the darkness. It was also the most dangerous time to be out on the streets, even for them. “You have no plan, and no knowledge.”

 

“No one does!” Harley said, trying to jerk her arm back. “That bastard doesn't allow anyone in or out of his stronghold except his own and none of them would—could—talk. So I have to get in there my self and save him.”

 

Pamela grit her teeth, not wanting to start the fight again over Harley's adoration of the Joker, who had done everything short of spitting on her when all she wanted was his attention—and to burn down the city at the same time.

 

You could never actually discount Harley's own desire to see things burn, even if she usually hitched herself up to the Joker.

 

Grabbing ahold of her other arm, Pamela dragged her around the corner into a side street where they would either be in more danger or unseen.

 

“Why won't you help me?” Harley hissed. “You followed him too.”

 

“I didn't follow him,” Pamela said. “I agreed to work alongside him because that's where you were. And what you're talking about is suicide or probably worse, considering that family's refusal to actually kill anyone.”

 

Harley worked her jaw before she dipped her chin down, looking at Pamela through her lashes. “You did it because of me...?”

 

Pamela shook her against the wall. “Don't,” she said.

 

Harley shoved at her and she refused to move. “Harvey said he'd help. He's already been gather for another push at that bastard.”

 

“As if he hasn't tried a dozen times every year since Bruce came to power,” Pamela said, disdain in her voice.

 

“So you won't support me at all,” Harley said, going to shove her again. “You don't care about me, you just want to hold me back.”

 

“I want to stop you from doing something stupid enough that I'd lose you forever!” Pamela yelled back and Harley tilted her head, considering Pamela again.

 

“I need him back,” she said softly. “I can't leave him there.”

 

“Then you're right, I won't help you,” Pamela said, jerking back and letting Harley go.

 

-0-

 

They could see forest over the next hill and Dick felt his heart lurch. “I never thought I'd be so happy to see trees,” he whispered, head bent down as Jason unrolled their bedding. They were camped out in the desert, and the soldiers were already drinking, saying it was their last easy night on the journey.

 

The forest was more dangerous because there were more people, in big enough groups they would actually consider attacking even a militarized convoy. In the desert the danger was sharpshooters and the elements themselves.

 

It meant no one except Slade was paying them that much attention when Jason twined his arms around Dick's waist and pulled him against his chest. “Jason,” Dick said softly, looking around the campsite, their backs to Jason's back and giving them some protection from prying eyes.

 

“I know, just,” Jason breathed against his neck before pressing a kiss there and Dick tensed, looking around again. “I know they're watching,” Jason said into Dick's neck. “But I like being able to touch you too.”

 

Dick turned his head, to hide his face from where the soldiers were. “They're gonna wonder why you don't go all the way though.”

 

He tensed, because Jason's eyes were dark like he wanted to and Dick realized that honestly, if Jason really did want to, he had no way of stopping him without getting them both killed. He viciously tried to stomp on even _having_ that thought but Jason was staring at him hungry and a little desperate.

 

“Ah, Dick,” Jason sighed, and the moment passed, Jason resting his forehead against Dick's and Dick closed his eyes, just breathing.

 

“You're being too kind,” he whispered in the tiny space between their faces, and he was in Jason's lap, twisted around and pressed close.

 

“I can be as kind as I want to,” Jason said and Dick tried not to huff.

 

“Do you hear them talking?” he whispered. “About you, I mean.”

 

“I honestly don't give a fuck what they have to say,” Jason said, one hand still wrapped around Dick's waist, the other tracing his cheekbone.

 

“Our lives could depend on their good will,” Dick said. “You could consider it.”

 

Jason sighed, and Dick felt the puff of his breath on his mouth. He swallowed hard and Jason's hand fell to the collar around his neck for a moment. The two movements together just reminded him all at once he was still wearing it and he looked away.

 

“Fine,” he said. “I'll consider it.”

 

“We should try and sleep,” Dick whispered, and he watched the soldiers throwing up toasts and those on guard glaring at those who weren't.

 

“Dick,” Jason breathed and Dick had to turn back in time for Jason to press forward and kiss Dick gently, barely holding him at all anymore. Dick sucked in a breath before he hesitantly tilted his head into the kiss.

 

“You're too gentle,” he said when Jason pulled away but he could feel himself leaning after Jason. “You're too—”

 

“You belong to me,” Jason said and god _damn_ him Dick wanted to whimper. “I can treat you however I want.”

 

“Jason,” Dick said, a warning and pleading all at once.

 

“When I get you behind closed doors,” Jason said, running his fingers down Dick's chin.

 

“We'll talk about that when it happens,” Dick said very quietly and Jason froze before he nodded.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, and kissed Dick again, just as softly and full of yearning and Dick really did whimper that time. “We'll, you know, talk it out. But god, just don't put me off.”

 

“I'll try not to,” Dick agreed.

 

With that Jason pulled back, frowning before he finally nodded. “Okay,” he said, voice still low before he shifted Dick around, dropping him on the bed roll. “Well, good night then.”

 

Curling up on his side, Dick buried his face in the pillow and did not think about Jason crawling in behind him.

 

-0-

 

“You sure you should be out yet?” Steph asked, slinging herself up on to the roof and looking at Tim.

 

“I'm just on the roof. I didn't realize being injured meant I couldn't leave the building at all,” Tim said. “Besides, it's still daylight and some sun exposure is good for you.”

 

Steph gave the stormy and dark sky a critical look. “Sure,” she agreed. “You healing up alright?”

 

“Fine,” Tim said, scowling.

 

“But still not well enough to go out, huh?” she asked, folding her arms. “It's for all our safety.”

 

“I get that lecture enough from Bruce,” Tim said, not quite pouting but as close as anyone could possibly get. “I know my body's own limits and when it will be safe enough for me.”

 

“I mean,” Steph said, looking sideways. “It's better anyway, for all of us. The last thing we need is for people to see us as mortals.”

 

“Steph, over a dozen people saw me injured,” Tim said. “And then I disappeared.”

 

“Sure,” she agreed. “But if you stay out of sight until you're better that means no one can confirm how close to death you were.”

 

“Unless they're paying attention to the timing of how long I've been gone,” Tim said and Steph grunted at him.

 

“You are refusing to be soothed about this at all?”

 

“For once I'm not finding logic very soothing,” Tim muttered, looking out over the city and trying not to scratch the stitches still in his side.

 

Steph laughed, looking over the roofs and scanning them automatically for any movement. “I know, with Dick being gone and all—”

 

“Don't,” Tim cut her off.

 

“No, I mean,” she started and sighed, shaking her head. “I know, okay? You miss him and you're injured and you're frazzled—”

 

“I'll be fine,” Tim protested, because he couldn't not protest.

 

“Tim I'm trying to talk to you—”

 

“What about, my problems? Everything is fine, Steph, as much as it ever is in this place.”

 

“Is that why you're kissing Damian?” Steph asked and slapped a hand over her mouth.

 

Tim froze. “What?”

 

“Sorry,” she said from between her fingers. “I wasn't supposed to know that. I really wasn't supposed to let you know I knew that.”

 

“How even,” Tim started and broke off. “Cass saw, didn't she?” he sighed because they would have noticed anyone else.

 

“I'm worried,” Steph said faintly. “I know we,” and she stopped because neither of them liked to talk about it. “But I don't understand why Damian. Didn't he try to kill you a few time?”

 

“Yes,” Tim muttered. “He did.”

 

“And now you're kissing him?” Steph asked softly. “I just want to make sure you know what you're doing.”

 

“To be honest,” Tim said, the _for once_ silent between them. “I have no idea.”

 

There was a beep on their ear pieces. “Bruce wants you,” Tim said, even though Steph would have heard the code as clearly.

 

“We aren't done talking about this,” she warned, heading for the stairway.

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tim nodded. “I'm sure we aren't.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey remember when there was a lot of violence in this story? It's been a little while but just in case anyone forgot *Points at warning* Sure it could be more graphic but y'know just so you're all prepared.

Dick missed being able to drive the bike. They spent all day on it, off to the side of the convoy and strictly speaking under its protection, but because everyone else could see them, he sat on the back, pressed against Jason's back with his arms wrapped around him.

 

The whole situation was bad enough already without him dwelling on that.

 

They were going at a bit of a crawl because of the large trucks the convoy was mostly made of, soldiers hanging off the sides and riding bikes and jeeps around the larger vehicles. Because Dick had been watching, Slade alternated between riding on the trucks, one of the bikes, and the jeeps seemingly depending on his mood.

 

Dick was in the middle of tapping out a fairytale, letter by letter in Morse code, against Jason's side when suddenly there was a sharp whistle in the air and lead truck of the convoy burst into fire, smoke and flames going up.

 

The whole procession came to a screeching stop, as the soldiers started looking around and yelling, pulling the smaller vehicles in behind the big trucks, and as hanger ons Jason and Dick were shoved inside the protective circle.

 

“What the hell?” Jason asked.

 

“What does it look like?” one of the soldiers asked. “We're under attack!”

 

“Any idea from who?”

 

“Like that matters,” the soldier said just before a bullet went through his head from the forest, spraying blood on both of them, and Jason dragged Dick down with him behind the bike.

 

“This isn't enough cover,” Dick said, bracing himself back and not looking at the fallen body beside them.

 

“Right,” Jason agreed, pulling his rifle from where it was hooked to the side of the bike and looking around. “That way,” he pointed to one of the trucks.

 

Dick nodded, taking one more look around, at where the trucks had stopped in a half circle when they realized they were being attacked. He moved, Jason behind him, ducking behind another abandoned bike and rolling across the small open space before they reached the heavy truck.

 

Several of the Metropolis soldiers were already clustered there, looking around and into the forest.

 

“Whoever's attacking hasn't come out of the forest yet,” one of the soldiers said.

 

“Who the hell would be so stupid?” Jason asked, and when he pushed Dick down further Dick almost protested before allowing the motion. “I mean, I know there are tribes in the forest who refuse to live in the cities but—”

 

“They refuse to live in the cities because they hate them,” one of the soldiers said, Dick wiping blood off his face as he scanned what trees he could see.

 

“Besides, supplies,” another added, gun roving around the trees but unable to find any targets.

 

“There,” Dick said, seeing enough movement and Jason had the rifle up and around, firing out a shot. A figure fell out of the trees and for once Dick didn't even have a moment to feel the clench of grief and anger because other figures were streaming out of the treeline.

 

They were dressed in dark greens and browns, and had an assortment of weapons from long knives to every sort of gun to clubs and bats.

 

The trees were right there and Dick barely had a moment to catalog who was coming toward them when it felt like a wave hitting them all at once. Several of the attackers even swung out of the trees, hitting the top of the truck they were standing against and shooting down at them. Jason swung his gun around, though he quickly switched from the rifle to the hand guns he had.

 

Dick barely had a second to really consider what he was going to do before a figure with a knife was bearing down on him. He was thrown backward, back hitting the metal of the truck and he used the momentum to keep going, rolling around to the side and ducking in the same moment, striking his leg out to kick his attacker's kneecap hard.

 

They went down with a yelp and Dick slammed their head into the ground to knock them out. Except another was already coming up behind him, throwing their legs and arms around his waist and neck. He threw them both over, flipping the figure over his shoulders and ending up on top. His attacker scrabbled his hands on Dick's face and he tried to twist his face away, getting ragged fingernails clawed down his cheeks.

 

Their struggle had taken them closer to the trees then the trucks, and Dick barely had time to feel a shadow fall behind him when there was another of the attackers at his back. He rolled in time to avoid the sword swing that barely missed his neck, feeling it whoosh over his head instead. Jumping to his feet, he leaped back again to avoid the next blow, wishing he he at least picked up the knife or had a bat or something to deflect the sword.

 

Both of the attackers turned on him and he worked his jaw a moment, glancing between them. The one with the sword was the more dangerous, but the one who had jumped on his back had gotten ahold of someone else's fallen bat, while he was still weaponless.

 

Leaping at the one with the bat, he shoved them both around and to the ground, kicking out at the man with the sword at the same time he twisted to put the man's comrade between the two of them. He managed to get his elbow in his attacker's face, wrangling the bat from them and rolling in time to avoid the next sword blow, which cut through his other attacker's shoulder to try and get to him.

 

Which meant apparently they had no qualms about hurting each other.

 

Dick brought the bat up in time to block the next sword blow, the metal cutting deep into the wood but not all the way through it. He jumped, using the momentum to jump kick at his attacker's head, connecting solidly but not enough to do more then stagger the other man.

 

The other figure was sprawled on the ground moaning and when Dick was forced back by the next attack he tripped over them, falling backward hard. Gasping, he rolled but not in time to miss the entirety of the next blow, the sword cutting into his side and he thrashed at the pain, cutting back the scream he wanted to make as he finished the roll, barely managing to come up into a crouch.

 

The man with the sword grinned, looking at where blood ran down one side of it, before displaying it to Dick, as he struggled to breath through the pain and hold the bat up in front of him as some sort of shield. He had no idea where Jason was and the man rushed forward again. Except this time, he didn't strike with the sword, just threw himself against Dick and with a cry he went over again, landing hard on his injured side.

 

He tried to kick up but his leg refused to cooperate and the man lifted the sword again, placing the flat of the sword against Dick's throat, over the collar and Dick didn't have time to gasp before suddenly the man was being pulled off him and another sword being driven through his chest.

 

He barely had time to give more then a gurgle as blood from his chest hit Dick's chest and face and he gagged, the sword barely missing him as it fell.

 

Scrambling backward, Dick tried to keep his breathing under control, wiping frantically at the hot blood on his face as the corpse fell on his knees, revealing Slade holding a bloody sword and staring down at him.

 

“You're certainly holding your own, aren't you?” Slade remarked and reached down, grabbing Dick's arm and dragging him up. Dick couldn't stop the tiny cry of pain as his side was yanked and pulled. Once he was on his feet, he swayed before he caught himself on Slade's shoulder.

 

“You're injured,” Slade remarked, as if he was commenting on a particularly bland subject.

 

Dick was already looking away from him though, trying to find Jason in the crowd. There were bodies on the ground everywhere and he couldn't stand on his own.

 

“Boy,” Slade said and Dick tensed. “I have a question for you.”

 

“There are people dying—” Dick said.

 

Slade wrapped the arm with the sword around Dick and pulled a gun out with the other. “Should I save your lover or not?” Slade asked, still casual and Dick gaped at him before finally following the trajectory of where he was pointing the gun, at where Jason was surrounded by the corpses of soldiers in their green uniforms, using his gun to keep a wicked curved knife away from his throat. Except the attacker holding it and pressing down was even bigger then Jason's bulk as it kept slipping closer.

 

“Slade!” Dick yelled, trying to shove off and toward Jason, except he couldn't and Slade's arm was still wrapped around him.

 

“Is that a yes or a no?” Slade asked. “Don't most slaves want to be free from their masters?”

 

“Slade please!” Dick yelled, because the knife had slipped a little bit closer.

 

“That's two then,” Slade said and fired, the attacker stiffening as the bullet went through their head before slowly falling and Jason had enough time to shove the corpse off before the knife fell. “You owe me,” Slade added, letting go and Dick dropped to the ground, falling on his knees as Jason sat up, looking around frantically and seeing Dick kneeling next to Slade. “For your life and his.”

 

Jason was up and running, and the few attackers still around were gone, melting into the trees though they had stripped the corpses of whatever weapons or goods were within obvious reach.

 

“Dick,” he said, ignoring Slade completely to collapse in front of Dick and drag him close, trying to clean his face off to see what blood was his and what was from his attackers.

 

“Side,” Dick rasped and grit his teeth when Jason ran his fingers down his side.

 

“Shit,” Jason breathed and the soldiers that were still alive were starting to gather to take stock of their situation.

 

“You?” Dick asked, and he wanted to cling to Jason, bury his face in his hair and scream until he lost his voice but instead he forced himself to stay still.

 

“Cuts, bruises,” Jason said. “Shit, you have got to stop getting cut up, what is wrong with you?”

 

Dick hesitated before he slowly looked back up as Slade, who was standing there and watching them. “I'm sorry,” Dick rasped and jerked his chin slightly so Jason finally looked up too.

 

Slade smiled, a slow curl of his mouth. “Well, boy?” he asked, even though Jason had already yelled Dick's name and when Dick processed that his stomach dropped.

 

“Thank you,” he said and Jason looked from Dick to Slade, as if finally realizing where that shot that had saved his life had come from and why.

 

“For what?” Slade pressed and Dick sucked in air and forced it out.

 

“For our lives,” he said and Jason's fingers curled hard around his biceps.

 

Slade just smiled again and nodded at Jason. “You should probably make sure his side is clean and bandaged,” he said, before turning and strolling over to the soldiers, his sword slung over his shoulders and his gun tucked back away in it's holster. He paused, before picking up the sword that had almost killed Dick, taking it with him too.

 

“Come on,” Jason whispered when he gathered himself back together. “Can you move?”

 

“I need to lean on you,” Dick said, biting his lip to stop from crying out when Jason helped him to his feet. “I'm fine,” Dick said because Jason was shaking. “I mean, I will be,” he amended.

 

“Please stop saying that just because you hope it's gonna be true,” Jason said, gently tugging Dick with him.

 

“We need to move out as soon as possible,” Slade said, approaching them again, still carrying both swords. “I assume you know how to handle this?”

 

“Yes,” Jason snapped as he let Dick gently down on to the bike seat and Dick was alternating between biting the inside of his cheek and his lip to keep his whimpers down as Jason started peeling his shirt up and off, carefully tugging the stray fabric away from the wound. “It's not that deep,” Jason soothed. “Just long.”

 

“I know,” Dick said. “I'm fine,” he repeated for no reason other then he always said that.

 

“Jesus fuck,” Jason muttered under his breath, Slade surveying the forest around them in case a second attack was coming. The soldiers were attending to their own as well, gathering the corpses together and taking what mementos they had to return to their families, and their weapons before starting a pyre to burn them. Those that were injured were also being seen to by the few medics they had along. “Stop saying you're fine.”

 

“I can't help it,” Dick admitted as he felt the burn of pure alcohol dumped on the wound and he hissed before Jason started wrapping it up tightly.

 

“Is this gonna be okay?” Jason asked. “We'll have to ride again.”

 

“I know,” Dick said. “I can handle the pain,” and he realized Slade was looking at him directly again, something glittering in his eye.

 

“I don't think it needs stitches,” Jason said, focused on his task. “But if it does—”

 

“I'll tell you tonight,” Dick murmured and they were too obvious, they were stupidly obvious that they had done this too many times. Jason swallowed hard, looking up at his eyes finally and everything seemed to stop for just one second. “I know,” Dick said very quietly. “I was scared too.”

 

Jason sucked in a breath all at once and tugged Dick's shirt back down over the bandages. “You're not hurt anywhere else?”

 

“No,” Dick said. “Nothing but bruises.”

 

Jason nodded tightly, finally looking over his shoulder at where Slade was still watching them. He tightened his grip on Dick's bicep by accident and Dick hissed, making Jason instantly loosen his grip. Before Jason could snarl at Slade, he turned and walked back to the jeep he had been riding in earlier that day, talking to the soldiers there.

 

“We're in trouble,” Dick whispered and Jason didn't nod, he just closed his eyes.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slade hijacked my page count again. So, uh, this chapter is for sadorable's birthday! Because she says it is so here is some more birthday Slade and this is half your fault anyway so enjoy.

Dick waited until Jason was asleep and he could hear the slow even space of his breathing before he carefully eased himself from underneath Jason's arm. Once he was outside of Jason's embrace, Jason curled slightly more around his stomach, grunting, before he seemed to fall back into deep sleep. Laying on his stomach, Dick wiggled out from the blanket roll and double checked Jason one more time before considering the camp.

 

A slave wandering around without his master seemed like a horrible idea.

 

But no one was looking at him, so they had not seen movement out of the corner of their eyes or heard him make any sound so he carefully raised himself into a crouch and trusted Bruce's training to start skirting the perimeter of the camp.

 

Luckily enough for him, Slade wasn't that far away.

 

Even so, he almost had one run in with a twitchy guard, who waved his gun around as if that would stop the attackers from the trees ever appearing again.

 

Slinging himself up behind Slade on the truck almost got him caught but there were enough shadows and too much sound from the wind in the trees.

 

“Slade,” he said, and had the horrible satisfaction of watching Slade Wilson actually jump, glancing up at him once before pretending he didn't see him and turning his gaze back to the forest. “A word.”

 

“Yes?” Slade asked, and even from this angle Dick could see enough of his face to realize he was smiling. “By the way, you're only making it more obvious that you're not a pleasure slave.”

 

“I thought we had already laid that one to rest,” Dick admitted.

 

“Anyone else could see you,” Slade said and Dick shrugged, even though Slade was not facing him.

 

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But they haven't.”

 

Slade laughed, keeping his voice down low and he was holding a knife in one hand and a piece of fruit in the other. For a second Dick was distracted, looking at the fresh fruit before he snapped his attention back to where he was and why. “What can I do for you, boy?”

 

Dick grit his teeth because he had gone through too much trouble to just slink back to Jason's arms now. “You said I owed you,” he whispered.

 

“Yes,” Slade agreed. “Twice over, for two lives.”

 

“Yes,” Dick swallowed.

 

Hesitating, Slade turned his head enough to grin at him. “And you want to know what price I'll ask of you, hm?”

 

“I want to understand,” Dick said. “Why you saved us, and yes, what you want from me.”

 

“What I want from you,” Slade practically purred and Dick felt it like it was a hand down his spine. He twitched his shoulders, trying to get rid of the sensation. “You think you would know what people want from you by now, boy.”

 

Dick wanted to protest he was hardly a boy, but this wasn't the time for that. “You're the one who is so certain I'm not a pleasure slave,” Dick said. “What's the point of claiming my body then? I have no training to bring pleasure.”

 

“I'm not sure you would need it,” Slade rumbled and Dick froze.

 

“So that's what you want then?” he asked, voice hollowed out and throat dry. Slade tilted his head back again to look at him before looking back at the forest.

 

“And would you be willing to be separated from your lover like that?” Slade asked.

 

“No,” Dick said. “ _No_. But I rather thought that was beyond the point of slavery to begin with. What I want would be incidental to the reality of what would be... happening.” He ducked his head down and breathed until he could lift it again. “But I think you are overestimating either my beauty, my skill, or my docility if that's what you desire.”

 

Slade laughed and he had been peeling the apple in his hands the whole time, finally starting to cut into the meat of it, chopping it into careful pieces and cutting away the core. He ate one, leaving Dick to watch in silence before answering. “With you? The pleasure of your body is but a part of it.”

 

“What's the other parts?” Dick asked.

 

“I haven't admitted this is what I'm taking from you,” Slade reminded him before continuing. “You're trained. You're useful. You can fight, defend yourself with perhaps a little bit more armor and weaponry, you're smart, and you're also sometimes very stupid. It's... intriguing to watch. And yes, you're beautiful.” He turned his head. “The point of you is not to own a slave, but rather to have a companion.”

 

Dick stared at him and when Slade suddenly handed him one of the pieces of apple, he took it automatically, fingers curling around it before he could process the motion.

 

“Eat it,” Slade whispered and Dick did, eyes closing at the taste of fresh fruit, the crunch of it and the juice. He carefully swallowed before opening his eyes again.

 

“You want a companion,” he repeated.

 

“And you,” Slade ran his fingers down Dick's cheeks, over the scratches from the attack and his own bruise underneath it. “Are unique among those I've seen. I could train you even better. We could have power and wealth and live by our own rules.”

 

“Which I would have to agree to,” Dick said. “If you expected a companion and not a slave.”

 

“Yes,” Slade said and Dick looked away.

 

“I don't want that,” he said.

 

“Not now,” Slade agreed. “And I didn't say that's what I would demand of you either. But,” and he moved, leaning forward until Dick had to look back at him because he was barely an inch from Dick's face. “Can you not say the idea does not appeal to you at all?”

 

Dick opened his mouth and closed it again. “No.”

 

“You're lying.”

 

Dick's mouth twitched again. “Yes,” he said faintly. “A little bit.”

 

Slade's mouth curved into a smile and he leaned back, eating another piece of apple. “A little bit,” he repeated. “Well perhaps that is the seed that will grow into an idea.” He hummed to himself, looking quite happy before shrugging. “Anyway,” he said. “An easy answer would be that I want you, your body, to match the lives I've saved.”

 

“Two nights?” Dick asked, certain he was shooting far too low. Slade's laugh proved him right.

 

“Two weeks more like,” Slade said “Two years? How would you trade physical pleasure for your own life?”

 

Dick ducked his chin down, breathing. “You said that would be but the easy answer,” Dick said. “Which means I doubt it is the one you intend to take.”

 

“And every time I look at you I think the easy answer might be best,” Slade said and laughed again when Dick's head snapped up.

 

“You're playing with me,” Dick said.

 

“Yes,” Slade agreed easily, crossing his arms and leaning back. Dick shifted to allow Slade to do so without hitting him.

 

“What do you want of me?” Dick asked again, low and edging toward an anger he could not afford to show. “You said I owed you and I am not so stupid as to think you forgive your debts.”

 

“I haven't decided yet,” Slade said, caviler and Dick wanted to yell or strike out at him. “I'm weighing my options.”

 

“And by that you mean you want to continue tormenting me.”

 

“Perhaps,” Slade said, giving him an easy smile. “I'm waiting for you to dig yourself in deeper. Do you think you'll need my protection again?”

 

“And if we reach Metropolis and part ways?” Dick asked, voice low and tight.

 

“Ah,” Slade curled his fingers under Dick's chin, hitting lightly and Dick jerked his head back. “You think I'd actually let you go when we reach the city? As if the mess of people there could keep me from finding you again?” He leaned close and Dick did not move. “No. I don't think it will be that easy.”

 

“There are places we are going,” Dick said softly. “From the city. You might have to follow us a far ways.”

 

Slade hummed. “Not so far as that,” he said and turned away. After a moment Dick decided the conversation was over. He sighed, starting to move back the way he came when Slade's hand reached out, grabbing the back of his neck and jerking him.

 

“What—” Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice down and from flailing too much as he all but fell. If anyone looked over now they would _see him,_ he was in the open and practically across Slade's lap when Slade used his grip on Dick's neck to bring their mouths together.

 

For a moment Dick froze because somehow despite everything they had said he hadn't _expected this outcome_ , and Slade's hand was huge and heavy on the back of his neck, far bigger and wider then Jason's and unlike Jason's careful touches and hesitant need laced kisses Slade kissed him like he really did own him.

 

He kissed him like he was going to devour him from the outside in, his mouth hot against Dick's as he licked and coaxed his way into Dick's mouth and for his part Dick let him. He opened his mouth, refusing to shake or moan as Slade inched his way inside.

 

It was overwhelming and his hand inched up to grab the back of Slade's shirt to have something to hold on to.

 

When Slade bit his bottom lip, tugging it with him as he pulled back slightly, Dick did finally whimper and when Slade let him go, he was grinning in Dick's face. “My,” he rumbled and Dick's stomach turned over, as much as in fear as anything else. “You are responsive.”

 

“I'm not,” Dick said, even though it was stupid to protest as his hand was still gripping Slade's shirt.

 

Humming, Slade ran his hand down Dick's chest and watched him shiver. “It always is a good idea to sample the products,” he said and Dick jerked back, floundering before he got his balance.

 

“I'm not a product,” he hissed.

 

“I wouldn't say that too loud,” Slade said, folding his arms behind his head. “I'll let you know what you owe me. Fun as this was, I don't suggest you do it again.”

 

“I wasn't planning to,” Dick said and he had his hand up on the truck again, to pull himself back into the shadows when he dared to look over his shoulder again.

 

Slade was grinning at him as he left.

 

“What's up?” Jason asked when Dick carefully eased himself back into the bed roll and he sighed, because of course Jason was already awake.

 

“Nothing,” he said and Jason stared at him. “Slade.”

 

“Please tell me that does not mean you just went out of your way to talk to him,” Jason said after a beat of complete silence.

 

“I wanted to know,” Dick muttered and Jason's arms tightened around him.

 

“And did he tell you?”

 

“Not in so many words,” Dick breathed and he felt Jason's nose rub against the back of his neck. “I'm sorry,” he added.

 

“For _what_?”

 

“For getting his attention to begin with,” Dick said and Jason sighed.

 

“I'm half surprised we aren't being followed by a lot more people,” Jason said. “All out for you and your, hm, pleasures.”

 

Dick elbowed him. “That's your own infatuation talking.”

 

“I'm not infatuated,” Jason murmured into the back of his neck and Dick felt wound up and jittery, from Slade's kiss, from Jason's mouth, and from the collar that he could fell every time he breathed. “I think I've gone far beyond that with how I feel for you.”

 

“I,” Dick started and one of Jason's hands covered his mouth.

 

“Go to sleep,” he said.

 

“Don't order me around,” Dick snarled through Jason's hand and he felt Jason shake, as if he was cutting off some reaction—a laugh or a groan Dick couldn't tell.

 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “But you should go to sleep. How's your side?”

 

“It hurts,” Dick said. “But not enough to stop me from moving if I need to.”

 

“You'll be sore tomorrow,” Jason warned and Dick elbowed him as Jason nuzzled closer. “Hey, Dick?”

 

“What?” he asked, eyes moving around.

 

“I love you,” Jason said, voice edging dangerously close to sleep and Dick shut his eyes, tilting his head back.

 

“Thank you,” he said, because Jason was already asleep.

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story document reached 150 pages during this chapter.
> 
> I wrote the last two chapters to "Venetian Snares" by Szamár Madár. This chapter I listened to In the Heights soundtrack a lot. I mean, I guess whatever works? 
> 
> (Also you people are totally awesome. This matters literally only to me but according to my author stats page this story has the most comment threads of any story I've written on this site! Which means a story finally surpasses the last one to hold that honor which is a story I frankly hate probably the most of any story I've ever had a part in and yet was the most popular thing that I've written. So yay! You guys are awesome and I love you all)

Cassandra watched Barbara spot Steph, going through her own stretches.

 

“You two are being very quiet,” Barbara said after minutes had stretched into silence. Steph laughed, almost dropping the bar on her chest and Cassandra felt herself move forward to catch it before she processed it. Barbara was already there anyway and Cassandra settled back on her heels.

 

“Cass is always quiet,” Steph said, grinning up at Barbara upside down.

 

“Point,” Barbara said, and smiled across the room at Cassandra who tried not to meet her eyes. “Is anything wrong though?”

 

“No,” Steph said, brightly enough Cassandra almost believed it.

 

Barbara crossed her arms over her chest, and it was times like this Cassandra was both so aware of Barbara's metal chair and struck by how much it didn't seem to matter. “Pull the other one,” she said dryly.

 

Steph finally pushed the bar up and sat up. “Well,” she said, stretching out her shoulder. “I mean, the city is sorta frantic right now?”

 

“It's exhausting,” Cassandra said and both Steph and Barbara stared at her, Stteph's mouth half open in surprise. “What is it?”

 

“Sorry,” Barbara said, and she pushed her hair back, eyes narrowed slightly. “I'm just not sure I've ever heard you admit to being tired.”

 

“Oh,” Cassandra managed. “Well,” she shrugged. “It has been tiring since...” and she trailed off because every time Dick's name was mentioned Barbara looked pole-axed all over again.

 

“Yes,” Steph agreed. “And with Tim out too, it's been me and Damian running the streets of the whole city. That brat is a fucking demon, I want a refund.”

 

“You'd have to take that one up with Bruce,” Barbara said after a wry beat.

 

“He could have another kid,” Steph said. “Maybe try the whole thing over again.”

 

“I am not sure that would help,” Cassandra said and Barbara hid her face, trying to muffle her laugh. Steph didn't even bother, throwing her head back and Cassandra caught herself looking at the line of her throat.

 

“That's not very kind to Bruce,” Steph said. “Oh hey, even if _you_ tried to have a kid again they would probably turn out to be a total demon.”

 

“It is possible the right mother would make a difference,” Cassandra admitted.

 

“But considering Bruce?” Barbara said. “Unlikely.”

 

“He is overpowering,” Cassandra said.

 

“I thought you like, adored him,” Steph said and there was something lurking around the edges of her smile, something dark in her eyes.

 

“Do you not too?” Cassandra asked after a beat. “We all follow him. That does not mean he is not mad.”

 

Barbara shook her head, laughing as she rolled across the floor, moving around the large crack that Cassandra was used to just stepping over. “He made his army well.”

 

Steph blew at her blonde hair, a strand having fallen in her face. “Sure, sure,” she said and stopped before she said anything else. “We all follow, blah blah.”

 

“No one said our loyalty had to be to Bruce specifically,” Barbara said, stopping at the free weights and leaning over to pick them up.

 

“Perhaps not,” Steph said, warily. “But isn't that how he sees it?”

 

“But that's not the point,” Barbara said, looking at her over her shoulder and Cassandra and Steph, on opposite side of the rooms, both tilted their heads at her. “He can want your loyalty as much as he wants, but what matters is our loyalty to his cause, to the others here.”

 

“No oaths of fealty,” Cassandra said and Steph bowed her head for a moment before lifting it again with a grin.

 

“Right,” she said and moved over. “Want me to help spot you now?” she asked Barbara, who nodded with a faint smile.

 

-0-

 

Jason was trying not to stare because Dick was stretching out carefully next to the bike, bending over his leg, pushing his muscles and honestly Jason had spent a lot of time as a kid watching Dick move. He had been so young when Bruce had picked him up off the street, but not as young as when he had plucked Dick up from whatever his fate would have been. Dick had been with Bruce for years by then, and Jason had almost punched him the first time they met because he could not understand why he was _smiling_ at him like he was actually happy to see him.

 

Jason had pulled his arm back and had almost gotten through the motion when Bruce caught his hand and honestly Dick's face couldn't have been more hurt if Jason had managed to land the hit.

 

After that they never really figured it out, though Dick never stopped trying and Jason never stopped wanting to let him in. He wanted to laugh, now, because he had taken the doors and thrown them open so wide he was pretty sure he'd never be able to shut Dick out again.

 

It scared the shit out of him. But then again, what didn't?

 

“Dick,” he said softly and Dick tossed his head, his hair growing back out finally.

 

“Yeah?” he asked, pushing himself up and switching his legs around. Jason's mouth went dry just watching him move.

 

“He's staring again,” Jason said and Dick froze, before his eyes flickered over.

 

“Oh,” he said and sank down into the next stretch.

 

Jason shifted, sinking down next to Dick's legs. “Dick,” he said and Dick's eyes came up to acknowledge he was speaking, even though his head didn't move. “What is going on?”

 

“What do you mean?” Dick asked and they were painting such a strange picture but they had almost the whole ride to Metropolis. He figured if no one had called them out by now, they weren't going to.

 

“With that man,” Jason said, jerking his chin toward Slade Wilson. Dick's eyes shuttered and Jason curled his hands into fists before relaxing them again.

 

Dick's stretch no longer looked natural and he seemed to sink further into his leg as if he could just keep sinking and never come back up. “Jason,” he said faintly and his eyes were dark when he looked up again. “Do you trust me?”

 

“That is a fuck of a question to ask,” Jason said, leaning over Dick and bracing his arm near his hip. It meant their faces were almost directly together and it would be hard for anyone to see their mouths moving, or hear what they were saying.

 

“I know,” Dick said softly.

 

“Do you really?” Jason asked. “Do I trust you—you would only ask that if something was going on.”

 

“Yes,” Dick agreed, tilting his head and it was almost enough to distract Jason.

 

“It's not that easy.”

 

“Isn't it?” Dick asked and there was that old pain again. Jason wondered what his life would have been like, if he had been able to give up on Dick at any point since first meeting him.

 

“No,” he said.

 

Dick's mouth twisted and he looked down before snapping his eyes back up. “He works for the warlords,” he whispered and Jason felt every single vertebrae in his spine click into place. “He's a mercenary,” Dick continued. “As far as I can tell he's running a message from Black Manta to Metropolis. Or further, I don't know.”

 

“That's a hell of a step up of one of Jade's gang,” Jason said and they stared at each other, neither wanting to mention the fear that she was more then she seemed too. “God, does Ollie and the other know?”

 

“I don't think so,” Dick said and he sounded lost.

 

Jason took a breath and forced it out again carefully, watching Dick's face. “How do you know that?” he asked and Dick swallowed, the motion too obvious.

 

“He's been,” Dick paused, searching Jason's face as if he had the right word Dick wanted. “Fascinated by me,” Dick said. “He knew, back in Atlantis about our charade. I don't know exactly everything else he's put together.”

 

“You mean there's even the possibility he—” Jason started because he had traveled outside of Gotham and he didn't think that Dick actually realized the legend he was. The first boy Bruce took in and trained, his second, his right hand man. Bruce himself was the terror of every legend out in the world and Dick Grayson was part of that story. Damian was part of that story, and sometimes Tim and Barbara were featured but they were neither the first nor blood born. Jason, when he was mentioned at all, was a foot note, a soldier who didn't work out but might come back in times of trouble.

 

Dick Grayson was a legend and he didn't even realize it.

 

“There is the possibility,” Dick said. “He implied it once or twice—”

 

“What?” Jason hissed before panic flared up in his chest, bright and hot and angry. “What do you mean _twice_? When could he have—” And Jason thought of the other day, of Dick pressed to the ground on his knees and Slade holding a gun over him. He couldn't remember the last time Dick had looked so stupidly, openly vulnerable. “What haven't you been telling me?”

 

“I'm sorry,” Dick whispered and Jason wanted to drag him to his chest, to hold on to him and never let him go again.

  
But Dick had never really been his to hide, his to protect from the world. All he could ever do was follow Dick and shoot down his enemies before they got too close to him.

 

“Dick,” he said, holding his shoulders. “Listen to me.”

 

“I've never not,” Dick replied.

 

Jason took a breath instead of screaming or shaking Dick. “When we get to Metropolis,” he said. “We're _running_ , okay? We're turning around and getting out as soon as possible.”

 

“That was the plan in Atlantis too,” Dick pointed out and Jason wanted to laugh as much as scream. 

 

“Right, I know,” he said. “I thought you would like that plan.”

 

“I do,” Dick breathed, and the desperation behind his voice made Jason choke. “I  _ do _ . I want nothing more then to—to be home.” He hesitated, something terrified edging its way into his expression. “With you.” 

 

Jason felt sucker punched and that wasn't fair, he should have been expecting that. “I've never agreed to stay,” he said and Dick looked down. Jason realized all at once Dick was still leaning over his leg, body poised in one long stretch. He moved back because he had to and Dick carefully leaned down before gracefully folding both legs underneath him. 

 

“I know you haven't,” he said, not looking at Jason and Jason bowed his head, hand fumbling out for Dick's knee, holding on. 

 

“I want to try,” he blurted and Dick was so still as it was Jason almost missed the fact he had completely stopped, not a muscle quivering for a long, horrible moment when Jason waited for him to react in any way except stop breathing. “I want to try to stay.”

 

Dick slowly looked at him. “Don't just—”

 

“I'm not just,” Jason said. “I promise I'm not just.” 

 

It was the first time Dick looked happy in days. Since perhaps before Jason dragged him out of the burning truck and ran away with him. “This doesn't mean we are going to get out of Metropolis,” Dick said. “And get home with no other complications.”

 

Jason turned his head and Slade was still watching them. “I know,” he said, and squeezed Dick's knee again before leaning in to kiss Dick, a gentle brush of their mouths, just enough to swallow Dick's soft breaths. 

 

The corners of Dick's mouth were twitching when he pulled back. 

 

“I'll get you home,” he promised.

 

“Us,” Dick corrected him softly. “Get us home,” and this time Jason had agreed to try so he could only nod.

 

-0-

 

“What the hell happened?” Tim demanded, striding across the room toward Damian, who was brushing his shoulder off. 

 

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Drake,” he said, still focused on his jacket. “Damn,” he said, because the tear was big and bloody.

 

“Is that your blood?” Tim demanded, Bruce looking between the two of them, Cassandra crouched above his shoulder and Barbara watching them with her arms folded over her chest. 

 

“Some of it,” Damian said. “It's shallow.” He looked past Tim to his father. “Dent's people are moving. How he has anyone willing to follow him I'll never know. He shoots his damn deputies as much as those who actually oppose him.” 

 

“He has never suffered fools,” Bruce agreed, and there was something shadowed in his eyes. “Did he actively attack you?”

 

“Yes,” Damian said, not really looking at him and still fussing with his clothing. He missed the way Bruce's spine stiffened, and his eyes darkened. Cassandra felt her stomach drop down because she remembered the hollow devastation on Bruce's face that night in the alley as Harvey strolled away, throwing taunts over his shoulder. “But it's fine,” he added.

 

Tim's hands were clenched as his side. “You didn't report in,” Tim said and Damian's eyes flickered over to him and stayed there too long. There was something smug, almost pleased in Damian's expression, like he had been waiting for that reaction. “And now you're injured,” Tim's voice was shaking, barely restrained in the usual parameters of how he spoke. 

 

Barbara was tapping on her own ear piece, asking for Steph to check in. Cassandra didn't realize she was holding her breath until Steph returned the message with a few short clicks. 

 

“Does that bother you, Drake?” Damian was asking. “That you can't control me? That I am not your perfect Grayson—”

 

“What the fuck,” Tim snarled and that was far outside the usual tones he allowed himself. 

 

“Boys,” Bruce cut in an Cassandra wondered if he was just breaking up the fight, or if he was picking up on any of the undercurrents between them. She thought about the way they had kissed, Tim quivering in Damian's arms and the way Damian had curved his back over Tim, pleased as a cat. Except for giving up the physical control, Tim had looked content, as if he had it all planned out that way. 

 

She wanted to drop down between them and demand to know what they were doing. 

 

“We'll be good,” Damian said to his father, even as his eyes smoldered at Tim, who met his gaze straight on. “Anyway,” Damian said, as if nothing was happening in the feet of space between them. “What do you want to do about Dent?”

 

“What can we do?” Barbara asked. 

 

“He is becoming a threat,” Bruce said, a rumble in his chest and that caused Damian and Tim to snap out of whatever space they were in, and turn to both look at Bruce.

 

“And?” Damian asked. “Does that mean we'll actually do anything?”

 

Tim's eyes snapped over to him again and Bruce looked away from all of them.

 

“Bruce?” Barbara asked and no one talked about the hole in the middle of the room.

 

Bruce pushed himself to his feet suddenly and Cassandra tensed, ready to move at any moment to follow him. “How long is it to sunrise?” he asked.

 

“Two hours,” Barbara said. 

 

Bruce nodded, sweeping past her and Cassandra followed. The last thing she heard was Damian's raised voice. “Does that mean we're doing anything or not?”

 

“Are we?” she asked as Bruce reached the roof, looking out over his city and they both turned when they noticed a bonfire in the town square, where the Joker had called Bruce out not so long ago. Walking to the edge of the roof, Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, because Harvey stood there below, head tilted up in the fire. Below them, Cassandra wondered if she could hear the Joker laughing.

 

“Not yet,” Bruce said, staring down at Harvey and she did not ask what he was waiting for, exactly. 

 

She just stood there with him and watched the fire burn down into as the sun rose behind it. 

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay we're 70,000 words into this story. Has anyone figured out who's missing?

Tim sat on Dick's bed and tried to keep breathing. They all had separate chambers more or less, even though the walls were thin. He had heard Damian sneak in here countless nights, the quiet murmur of Dick offering him reassurance and Damian's huffs getting quieter and quieter.

 

He hadn't been in here since Dick disappeared. As far as he knew, no one had.

 

Except it was starting to feel unkind, to close off the room as if they could close off Dick from their lives just because he was gone.

 

Tim's hand crumpled the cover on Dick's bed before he forced his hands to relax, smoothing the fabric out. It was a patchwork quilt, and Dick had it as long as Tim had lived with Bruce. Each scrap of fabric had been carefully stitched together piece by piece in tiny and loving stitches.

 

It felt as disrespectful to leave it here in case Dick never came back as it did to remove it.

 

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked, in the doorway.

 

“Brooding,” Tim said, fingers still smoothing over the quilt and thinking about the hands that must have made it, so careful and full of affection and desperation to protect in any way possible. “What do you want?”

 

Damian hesitated before stepping fully inside the room. “This is Grayson's room,” he said.

 

“Do you remember when all we could agree on was how much we didn't want to loose him?” Tim murmured. “Do you think in the end Bruce was more or less destroyed then we feared?”

 

“Both,” Damian said. “As far as I know that's still all we agree on.”

 

Tim was not quite smiling when he looked up. “No?” he asked. “I seem to recall us agreeing at one point that you would _check in and not die_.”

 

“Oh, did we?” Damian asked, and that tiny smirk was back as he inched closer inside the room.

 

“Yes,” Tim said, but he did not stand and allowed Damian to tower above him. He stretched his neck back to meet Damian's eyes and smiled. “We had.”

 

“Tt,” Damian said, but he brought his fingers down to trace over the curve of Tim's jaw and down the long line of his throat. “You looked angry,” he said and it seemed too loud for the room they were in. “Were you thinking you wanted to punish me?”

 

“Oh, very badly,” Tim said and he could feel Damian's fingers against his throat when he spoke.

 

Eyes glittering Damian bent down. “How?” he asked and Tim wrapped his arms around Damian's shoulders, yanking him and flipping at the same time so Damian landed on his back on the pallet and Tim on top of him.

 

Normally it would have been much more complicated to get Damian underneath him, or surprise him like that. “You're side seems better,” Damian said, and ran his hands carefully up Tim's sides, like he knew he wanted something but was not quite sure how to get around to obtaining it. “You'll be able to go out again soon.”

 

“Yes,” Tim agreed and cover Damian's mouth with his own, his fingers curling on Damian's shoulders and he felt aware that he was straddling Damian in ever part of him. All his thoughts were circled down on the feel of his hips below his thighs, and the rest and fall of his chest, and the way he was biting Tim's bottom lip before licking the wound with his tongue and Tim groaned into the silence between them.

 

“Not much of a punishment,” Damian said and Tim would normally agree but he wanted to bite and suck at the skin of Damian's throat more so he did that. The whole length of Damian's body jerked underneath him and they were still in Dick's room, on the bed that Tim knew they both had slept in on different nights, when they were both scared and hurting and Dick seemed like the only thing capable of holding them together. Neither of them had ever tried crawling into Bruce's bed when it got too much and Tim wondered if Dick ever had when he needed some one to hold him and tell him maybe tomorrow would not be so dark.

 

They had both been here before and it felt both wrong and right to have Damian rucking up his shirt and moaning here of all places.

 

“I'll punish you later,” he said and hid his face in Damian's shoulder, arching his back into Damian's hands, rough and warm on his spine and he was shaking, “If you stop though I will have to think of something drastic.”

 

“Right,” Damian laughed and Tim bit his ear before sucking on it, and they were both tearing at each other's clothes, Damian surging up and rolling Tim over. He had Damian's shirts off, and was half into his pants, his own gloves and shirt thrown somewhere else and his pants down around his knees when their ear pieces started clicking.

 

Tim pulled away, gasping and trying to make sense of the clicks in his ear. Damian's face was inches from his own and he could barely make out the high flush on his cheeks.

 

“The roof,” Damian said the second time the short message was repeated.

 

“Yes, I understood it that time,” Tim said and he wanted to sink back into Damian's chest, finish what they had started because the desire was still pulsing through him. Instead he pushed himself up to his knees, dragging his pants back up and closing them with shaking fingers.

 

“Here,” Damian said, and threw him his shirt. Pulling it on, Tim tried not to think too much about how red Damian's mouth looked, or what his own face might look like. Smoothing his hair down he winced because they were obvious, they were being too stupidly obvious—

 

“Come on,” he said instead, grabbing the candle he had taken down to the room.

 

On the way up he didn't notice it particularly at first until it became more and more obvious that there was no other light, even though by now the fires of Gotham were usually raging. He pushed the thought aside because it was irrelevant until they reached the roof and it became the only relevant thought at all.

 

Gotham was in total blackout.

 

He blew out the candle when he realized it made them a target.

 

-0-

 

There was no moon the night the convoy rolled into Metropolis. They had decided to keep pushing on to get out of the forest instead of waiting for sunrise.

 

Clark wasn't used to trying to keep track of a whole convoy just in the light from the oil lamps but he had done harder things in his life. But it would be easier to at least read the check-in list with the help of a moon. Beside him, Jimmy was carefully taking photos of the inside of each truck, his old camera held together by tape and his desperate need of this job.

 

They had made it through only a couple of trucks when Clark caught sight of the pair. They stood out for the sole fact they did not belong in the convoy at all. But there was something about the line of the man's jaw, the way he scanned the area around them even though he wore a gold collar and was pressed into the side of the man beside him—

 

 _Bruce_ , Clark thought like a sucker punch. He was looking around exactly like Bruce watched a room, his body languidly pressed into the other man's side except for how easy it would be for him to spring into action the instant he had to.

 

The man ducked his chin down as his companion kept speaking to the soldier in front of them, starting to gesticulate with his arm not wrapped around the man with the collar.

 

Clark calculated his age quickly and thought of the little boy he had met, the one time after Bruce's take over that he had returned to Gotham. He had bright blue eyes and had smiled at Clark like the sun had come out.

 

After meeting him, Clark had yelled at Bruce until his voice had gone hoarse and it hadn't mattered at all. It wasn't why he had never gone back to Gotham—Metropolis kept him busy enough as it was, balancing between pretending to work with Lex Luthor and spending his off hours doing everything possible to undermine him from the inside.

 

But sometimes he had thought of the way Dick Grayson had tilted his head back at him, eyes so blue and face so open when he had pulled the boy to the side and asked him what he was doing with Bruce. “He needs me,” the child had said.

 

“He is using you in his war,” Clark had said. “You're a _child_.”

 

“He needs me,” he had repeated. “And I need him.” The young boy had put his little hand on Clark's arm and smiled. “I know what he's doing—and I know what I'm doing. I would rather fight then die alone in the shadows.”

 

And that had, more or less, been that.

 

Except now Clark knew that man he was staring at and something must have gone very wrong.

 

“Jimmy,” he said, when his companion stepped out of the truck he had carefully photographed. “I need you to take a picture of those two,” and he pointed without trying to point.

 

“What?” Jimmy asked and then raised his camera. “If you say so, sir. How many?”

 

“Three,” Clark said, which was an unimaginable number for the cost of film and the chemicals to develop it. “I need both of their faces, if you can catch them.”

 

It was easy enough with Dick, he was still scanning their surroundings but the other man was not turning. Jimmy gaped at him a moment before he finally nodded. “Of course, sir,” he said and every sir made Clark wince.

 

He heard the first click of the camera, and Dick was almost turned directly toward them. The second click caught him looking back at the soldier, catching his profile. There was a pause, as Jimmy seemed to consider before the other man turned to look at Dick and the camera clicked, catching his face almost turned totally toward them.

 

“What are you going to want me to do with these?” Jimmy asked.

 

“Develop them,” Clark said. “And then get to me as fast as you possibly can.”

 

“I'll see what I can do,” Jimmy said and Clark was starting to move, his check list and responsibilities almost totally forgotten for a moment, because they were moving away from the soldier and away from him.

 

Except they were being stopped by another soldier, and Clark recognized these men as part of Lex's personal guard. “What can we do for you?” the man holding Dick—for Clark was almost completely certain it was Dick Grayson which only made Lex's guard that much more alarming—asked.

 

“You arrived with the convoy,” Mercy Graves said, standing at the front of the group and Clark stopped, close enough to hear but hopefully not to be seen and remarked upon yet.

 

“Yes,” the man agreed. Clark saw movement on the other side, and turned his head in time to see Slade Wilson stroll up, looking for all the world like a casual tiger. He felt is stomach turn over and Dick was looking at Wilson in some measure of resignation and fear. “And we were just going to turn around and go again.”

 

“Two, traveling alone through the forest at night?” Mercy asked.

 

“I never said right this second,” the man allowed, and Clark saw Dick's hand go around his back and his fingers were moving, tapping in a certain rhythm against his side. It took Clark a moment to recognize the pattern as Morse Code and his stomach dropped again because _it had to be_ Dick Grayson standing there.  _Bruce_ , he thought again, remembering Bruce teaching him the dots and dashes, the code they could use no one else would understand.

 

“It's too bad,” Mercy said. “My master would like to see you.”

 

Both men froze. “Really?” the taller one laughed. “What does a warlord want with a traveler and his slave?”

 

“I do not question his commands,” Mercy said. “Simply follow them. As you will. Come.”

 

For a second the two men turned to look at each other, and the other man was tensing, like he was preparing to fight before Dick's head gave a tiny shake, eyes flickering over to where Wilson was watching them and he let his breath out all at once.

 

“Okay, sure,” he said, too much casual bravado in his voice and Clark was gripping the check list tight enough his knuckles were white, watching as they were led away. He couldn't follow because he had to finish checking the trucks, had to finish his job. The last thing he could afford in the world was to make Lex Luthor start to suspect he was anything except dedicated.

 

Striding back, he leaned over Jimmy's shoulder, several soldiers still standing around and guarding the trucks. “We need to work fast,” he said. “And then you need to develop those photos.”

 

“Clark?” Jimmy asked.

 

“Come on,” Clark said, not having the time to explain. But fear was beating against his breastbone that he was already going to be too late to do anything.

 

-0-

 

“What's going on?” Damian asked and Tim thought he could place where Damian was on the roof just by the sound of his voice.

 

“We don't know yet,” Barbara said, somewhere else and Tim turned his head up to the sky. He could see a hundred stars and no moon.

 

“It's a new moon,” he said, the realization hitting him square in the chest. “There's no light for the rest of the night.”

 

“No,” Bruce agreed. “There is no light.”

 

“But there's always fires,” Steph said and Tim turned his head, wanting to fumble out in the dark for her hand. “Even if someone wanted to make a point, some idiot somewhere in Gotham would set a fire—they would want to be able to see—”

 

“Unless someone has a whole crew making sure the fires stay out,” Bruce said, his voice a reassuring rumble in the darkness.

 

“That would require,” Tim did the calculation in his head and decided not to say it.

 

“Our enemies working together,” Cassandra said and her voice was a whisper in the darkness before they all fell silent. There was a scuffle from downstairs and Bruce was moving, seemingly undeterred by the darkness around them.

 

“Light flares,” he said. “Everywhere in the building.”

 

“But that means our enemies will be able to see us—” Tim protested. “They'll be able to see us but we'll have no idea how far away they are—”

 

“We'll be sitting targets unable to see anyway,” Bruce said. “Steph and Barbara—You guard the roof. Cass, Tim, Damian, we need to reinforce the doors. Everyone stay on your comms and if you need back up _call for it_ ,” Bruce said and there was a sudden snap before a red flare sizzled to life, illuminating Bruce for a moment before he dropped it off the side of the building, lighting up the windows as it went down and landed in front of the old town hall.

 

It barely had the reach to light up much of the square, but Tim could see the mass of people standing down there. “You made this into a fortress,” he whispered, because he could catch Harvey Dent staring back up at them.

 

“Let's see if it holds,” Bruce barked. “Move.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know because sometimes people ask me how I get inspired or stay inspired or anything like that and I was listening to "Blackout" from the In the Heights soundtrack and sorta went okay but what if Gotham had a black out? How would that /work/ and suddenly here we are. 
> 
> It's just that easy to end up with new subplots.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this chapter to Simon Curtis' "Joystick" which i think just means my music choices for this story have gone completely off the rails.

“What are the weak points?” Tim asked, following Bruce down the stairs. Bruce had another flare in his hands, occasionally throwing another one away, smoldering on the stairs and throwing red shadows up on the wall.

 

They were bright, but didn't illuminate as much as fire did, leaving odd shadows and Tim was already disoriented.

 

“The doors,” Bruce said. “I'll take the front one, Damian you'll cover the back one.”

 

Damian hesitated a moment, and Tim turned his head enough to see Damian staring at him before he nodded, jumping over the railing and on to the ground floor, taking off with his own flare in one hand. “What about me?” he asked, trying not to look after Damian, trying not to think about his hands on his spine and the little angry sigh he had made when Tim kissed him hard.

 

“You have to cover the whole floor,” Bruce said. “Check, be constant. They shouldn't come through the walls—” Tim felt his stomach turn over.

 

“Understood,” he said, not looking at Cassandra before he lit his own flare, watching her and Bruce head for the front door. For a second he considered, before deciding to stand down at the bottom of the stairs.

 

There was a moment where he could breath, trying to center himself before he heard the sounds of gunfire upstairs. Head snapping up, he had to bite down the need to run up those stairs, because Steph was up there. He could image her blonde hair blazing in the light from the flares as her and Barbara picked off anyone heading for the doors. How could they cover the whole roof? he thought, one foot already at the bottom of the steps before he tamped down on that, jogging around the perimeter of the bottom floor.

 

There were strange sounds coming from outside, but nothing actually at the walls yet.

 

It was just him and the light and the strange sounds.

 

Finally he reached the back door, finding Damian crouched. “Did you hear the shots?”

 

“Yes,” Damian said. “They've already—” and they both broke off because the gunfire from upstairs had just started again. There was a fuzz of static, and then Steph tapped out a quick report that people were trying to reach the walls and so hard had been held off. “They'll probably try climbing the walls,” Damian said. “It would be easier then trying to get through the walls or doors.”

 

“There aren't very many windows left,” Tim said. “So they can't break in there.”

 

“There are a couple,” Damian said and then he stopped, something strange in his eyes. “Drake,” he started and Tim wasn't staring at him, wasn't thinking about it.

 

“What?”

 

Except just as much as he wasn't going to think about it, Damian leaned forward and yanked him up, slamming their mouths together. “This is not the time,” Tim hissed, shoving him away. “This isn't—”

 

“About what almost happened earlier,” Damian said, undeterred.

 

“Still not the time,” Tim said.

 

“Don't die,” Damian said and his eyes were blazing in the light from the flares. “I wish to continue.”

 

Tim felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “I'll try not to die,” he agreed. “Assuming you do the same.”

 

“I do have a sense of self-preservation,” Damian said and they both froze at an odd sound echoing from the second floor. “What is—” Damian started and Tim tensed.

 

It was singing.

 

“The Joker,” he said, because the Joker was in the building and he had known that, because Damian told him, because Steph had been taking him food. Now, he was singing and it echoed all the way downstairs.

 

“Can he be a threat?” Damian asked as suddenly there was an abrupt static in their ears and the sound of someone running down the stairs. “Go,” Damain shoved him and Tim ran, reaching the bottom of the stairs in time to see Steph, Barbara braced against her, turn around and start firing the rifle she was holding again. Barbara braced herself on the railing, fiddling with whatever she had in her hands.

 

“Go,” she yelled down to Tim.

 

“What about the roof?” he asked.

 

She shook her head. “We'll hold them here,” she said. “It's a bottleneck. But they'll be able to get to the walls now,” and he nodded, taking off again and the scrapes and crashes outside the walls were much louder now.

 

The Joker was still singing.

 

-0-

 

Dick tried not to look nervous, Jason's arm heavy over his shoulders as they followed the guards that had picked them up.

 

“Is there a reason we're being taken?” Jason asked, and Dick knew his hand was twitching for a cigarette, for anything to calm his nerves. “We do something wrong?”

 

Dick didn't squeeze his eyes shut or sigh at that, though he tightened his grip on Jason's waist.   
  
The woman in front of them shrugged. “The Captain of the convoy alerted us to your presence. Anyone who travels with us must be debriefed and Luthor expressed interest in who might have been allowed by his allies to travel with his convoy.” She stopped in front of a doorway, turning around and considering them both a long moment.

 

Dick felt too aware of Slade standing behind them and the weight of his gaze. If Slade suspected, if he _said anything_...

 

Except the door opened and they were pointed inside, Slade still following and no one commented on that. “Look, we're just travelers,” Jason was saying to the woman who had escorted them but Dick was already looking at the man standing in the middle of the room. He had a glass in one hand, and a hand written list in the other.

 

“Ah, Mercy,” he said, turning. “Wilson, good to see you.”

 

“As ever,” Slade said, dipping his chin down and only then did the man actually focus on the other two.

 

“And our other guests,” he said, pausing for a long moment. “However did you get out of Atlantis?”

 

“The prince allowed us,” Jason said, because it was mostly the flat out truth. “For, ah, services rendered.”

 

“And why ever didn't you want to stay in Atlantis?” the man asked, taking a long sip from his glass, eyes never leaving them.

 

“Because it wasn't home and we never planned on staying there as long as we did,” Jason said, Dick's fingers clenching hard on his waist. “Frankly, we were just getting ready to head out of here too when your people got us,” he tilted his head to the door. “So, if we're done—”

 

“Hardly,” the man drawled, moving from where he was standing to behind the large desk and Dick was reminded of Bruce with his own solid desk for a moment before suddenly he was being grabbed and shoved hard.

 

“What,” Jason started and Dick saw him being yanked backward, a particularly large set of guards holding him as he was shoved into a chair at the front of the desk. “Hey!” Jason yelled, before a hand was slammed over his mouth and that was the last Dick allowed himself to see. He focused his gaze on the man in front of him.

 

“Do you want something of me?” he asked, trying to pitch his voice and nonthreatening, listening behind him for signs that Slade was about to step forward, or Jason was still struggling.

 

“Do you know who I am?”

 

“Yes,” Dick answered, blinking once but not daring to raise his eyes. He folded his hands in his lap and tilted his neck slightly, to make the collar more obvious. “Lex Luthor.”

 

“Good,” Lex said. “That's good of you.”

 

There were still two men standing behind him, and Mercy Graves had moved to stand behind Lex's shoulder, watching him impassively. “What do you want from us?” Dick asked, looking at the wood grain of the desk.

 

“Well, that depends,” Lex said.

 

“On what?” Dick asked, fluttering his eyes up and then down again, trying to gauge Lex's expression in what he hoped would seen as a nervous gesture.

 

“On what Dick Grayson is doing in my city,” and Dick's head whipped up.

 

“What?” he asked, voice shaking.

 

Lex Luthor smiled, reaching down to one of his drawers. “You surely aren't going to tell me I've lost my mind, are you? It would be foolish for someone in your position.”

 

“No madder then answering to someone else's name,” Dick said and he did not look back at Slade through sheer force of will but the betrayal curled hot and angry in his stomach.

 

Lex laughed before pulling a sheet of paper out of the desk and sliding it across the vast expanse. Dick's eyes flickered down and stopped on the drawing in front of him. “What?” he asked weakly, because it was practically a perfect likeness of him.

 

“I happen to pride myself on being informed,” Lex said, leaning back and steepling his fingers, grinning as Dick stared at the paper in front of him. He could hear Jason muffle a scream and still didn't turn around. “See, and I still have allies in Gotham. Nothing so grand as really being useful, but enough to have information like this. I have other ones of say, Damian Wayne as well. But he's not the one missing from Gotham is he? No, Dick Grayson is. I really do make a habit of personally talking to everyone who comes into my walls. You never know what your net will catch when it's so wide.”

 

So Slade hadn't said anything and that cruel chance only made Dick feel sick.

 

“And I do know,” Lex added, leaning forward and Dick hadn't been able to move since he saw the picture. “From my sources that Dick Grayson has been missing from Gotham for a while. Funny, I have no idea how you ended up in Atlantis, but it's not such a stretch from Gotham to there to here.” He leaned forward and Dick finally tore his eyes up to look at him.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Dick tried, desperate for some deniability. “I've never been to Gotham—”

 

“Dear boy,” Lex cut in. “Believe me when I say we are beyond the point where those sorts of words would work.”

 

Dick swallowed hard. “Then what point are we at?” he rasped, throat dry.

 

“The point,” Lex said, and there was a sly smile on his face. “Dick Grayson, where I decide what to do with you.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this my shortest chapter so far? I'm sorry nothing seemed to work like it should

“See,” Lex said, folding his hands under his chin and watching Dick, who stared back at him, refusing to react one way or the other. “The first two options are the most obvious: send your head back to Bruce or dump your body somewhere it won't be found.” 

 

There was a roar from behind them that was abruptly muffled and Dick did not turn to look at Jason. 

 

“Now, dumping your body? That would be delicious only because then dear Bruce Wayne would never know what happened to you. You would be the constant question mark in his life. Did you run away and leave him? Did you die? He'll not know and the longer he won't know, the more he'll unravel. On the other hand, I admit I like to gloat,” Lex said, talking for all the world like he was discussing the weather. “And I would probably manage to hold it back for a few years but then I'd want him to know what I took from him. And he'd never  _ honestly _ believe me without some proof and bleached bones just wouldn't do the same trick. So as thrilling as that idea is, I just don't think it would work.”

 

“No?” Dick managed, tilting his brows up and not screaming. 

 

“No,” Lex sighed. “Sending him your corpse is still on the table though.”

 

He paused, as if waiting for that to sink in to Dick's mind. “You said those were only the first two options, though,” he said instead, forcing his voice to be steady and clear, not dropping his eyes from Lex's face.

 

That seemed to give the man a pause before he started to laugh, a low chuckle he quickly stopped. “Well,” he said. “You are very pretty.” Dick twitched, and he refused to otherwise react. “I mean, it would be like inviting a panther to sleep in the same bed with you but possibly worth it. Especially after keeping you in a cell for a few months. How desperate and willing to do anything for sunlight would you be after all that time?” He shrugged. “I don't suppose you'd just agree to work for me willingly?”

 

“Work for or whore for?” Dick asked, and even though he was still wearing the collar, and even though he was perhaps in more danger then he had been since they left behind the truck burning in the desert, he felt a strange relief. He didn't have to pretend to be a slave anymore, and could straighten his shoulders and meet Luthor's gaze straight on. The pretense slipped from his shoulders and he breathed easier for it.

 

“Oh, work for me,” Lex said. “That was option four, after keeping you chained up as my slave.”

 

“No,” Dick said. “I wouldn't do it willingly.” 

 

“I figured not,” Lex said, and rose, moving back around the desk to lean against the front of it, crossing his ankles and his arms and staring down at Dick. “It was always worth asking.” He tapped his fingers against his elbow, looking down at Dick. 

 

“Were there any other options?” Dick asked, tilting his chin back. 

 

“Perhaps,” Lex said, and he was smiling as he reached down running a hand across Dick's temple and back into his hair, yanking his head back. Dick hissed, but didn't flinch away. “I'm still considering them.” 

 

“I assume you'll let me know?” Dick asked and Led laughed at that, shaking his head down at Dick. 

 

“You really are quite something,” he said. “Most people would be quite afraid right now.”

 

Dick twitched his shoulders up. “I've had lots of people threaten me,” he said, as if this was no big deal and if he didn't want to scream or wake up from this nightmare. He couldn't see an obvious way out and that meant nothing to how he was going to react where anyone else could still see him. 

 

Lex was still laughing, as he reached down, touching the heavy collar and yanking on it a little. “It would be a shame,” he said. “To ruin such a pretty neck as this.” 

 

“Then don't,” Dick said, as carefully as he could and somehow managed a smile. 

 

Chuckling again, Lex finally looked over his shoulder and Dick wanted to turn around and see Jason too. “Your companion looks quite distraught. Is he someone I should be worried about too?”

 

Dick stared at him, quickly trying to run through all the consequences of any answer he gave. “No,” he said. “He's not anyone you should be worried about.”

 

“But you care a great deal, don't you?” Lex asked and Dick froze. 

 

“Does that matter?” Dick asked. “Whatever I say, you're going to do exactly what you want, to the both of us. If I say I care, you'd kill him just to make a point. If I say I don't, you might just as well because there's no reason to keep him alive. Nothing I say could protect him if you've decided.”

 

“Are you so certain of that?” Lex asked.

 

“No,” Dick admitted after another moment's thought. Lex's laugh was starting to grate along all his nerves. 

 

There was a fumble at the door, and Dick finally turned around, tracking Slade and then Jason who was staring at him with huge eyes, both furious and afraid, before settling on the new comer. 

 

“Yes, Clark?” Lex asked, leaning back and the new comer had an honest to god  _ clipboard _ in his hands. Dick tried not to gape, especially when the man actually lifted his head and Dick—Dick remembered him. He remembered him because he had never seen anyone stand in front of Bruce, actually able to stare down at him, and thunder at him for a good fifteen minutes. 

 

“I thought you would like to see the report,” Clark said, and he was looking at Dick as he walked forward, handing it to Lex. “From the convoy. Are these going to be guests of ours?” he added and Dick frowned, eyes sliding back over to Lex.

 

“Until I know what to do with them,” Lex said and Jason surged forward before being pulled back. “You can put them downstairs until then.” 

 

“Together?” and Slade was the one asking, looking amused. 

 

“Why not?” Lex said and gestured them off.

 

-0-

 

The wall caved in when Tim was still all the way across the floor, patrolling the other side of the city hall. “Drake!” he heard Damian yell and was running before he had time to think, because somehow they had gotten through Bruce's walls, and Steph and Barbara were still on the stairs, keeping out anyone trying to get down but they wouldn't be able to hold the stairs from two sides—

 

And he had no more time for thinking because there were guns and clubs and knives in front of him, and he was the first line of defense. 

 

Everything for a while became the fight, ducking and weaving, using his smaller frame to make the taller and heavier men around him strike at each other when he slipped under their blows. 

 

Within minutes Damian was there as well, plowing into the mass and aiming for Tim. “You aren't covering your left side,” he said, easily slipping into that space.

 

“I was doing fine,” Tim said, even though that was a lie and he could barely breathe, rolling to avoid the next blow. 

 

“Certainly, Drake,” Damian said, blocking the next blow with the wood staff he was holding, shoving it into the attacker's face and breaking his nose with a crack. 

 

Bruce was there the next second, throwing the first attacker he got his hands on across the room, knocking several more down all at once. 

 

Tim heard a clatter on his ear piece, but didn't have the time to figure out what it was or even who was on the other end. 

 

“Can we get this hole propped back up?” Damian was asking, the three of them more or less holding the space closed from anyone getting past them and into the rest of the city hall. 

 

“With what?” Tim asked.

 

“We could just collapse the wall,” Damian said. 

 

“That would ruin the integrity of the whole building,” Bruce said. “We just have to hold them off.”

 

Tim didn't say anything as he ducked the next blow, breaking another flare when the one that had been burning started to sputter and go out. “Until what?” he asked, as Damian threw him the bo staff and went for his knives instead. Tim caught it and whirled around, hitting the chest of the man in front of him and sending him staggering back. 

 

Bruce didn't bother to answer him and for a while all Tim could focus on was the flow of battle. His body had been trained well, and Dick in particular had drilled him until he could move without thinking, even as he was observing. 

 

“These are just lackeys,” he said, the realization hitting him all at once. “There's no one here—”

 

“Maybe they figured the canon fodder would be enough,” Damian said, and the woman in front of him made an insulted sound and jumped at him with a roar. 

 

“No, that's not—” Tim started and was shoved backward. Staggering, he couldn't catch himself, and fell on his back as one of the attackers bore down on him with a wicked looking knife. He rolled, managing to get up on his knees in time for Bruce to get there, grabbing the attacker by the back of the neck and throwing him back out of the whole in the wall. “It's not that simple,” Tim said and there was another flurry of sound on the ear piece. 

 

“That's Barbara's code,” Damian said from where he had been separated, and pushed over to the side. Even so he was fighting all the way back toward them. 

 

“Yes,” Bruce said and suddenly everything stopped because Harvey came around the bottom of the stairs, holding Steph limp in his hands, blood slowly oozing from a wound in her forehead, glittering oddly in the light from the flares. 

 

“Have you liked my present so far?” Harvey asked. 

 


	34. Chapter 34

“I have to give credit where credit is due,” Jason said, looking around the room with his arms crossed. Dick had collapsed into the corner, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Bastard has a nice prison.”

 

“You know a lot of prisons?” Dick asked. He regretted it the instant Jason turned to look at him. “I mean,” he started and stopped. “Besides... that one.”

 

“I've seen a couple,” Jason said with a tiny shrug and Dick didn't ask him where, why, or how he got back out of them.

 

Jason opened his mouth and seemed to reconsider it, before crouching on the floor next to Dick's knee. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey. Look at me.”

 

Dick's eyes flickered up. “I am,” he said.

 

The corner of Jason's mouth twitched up. “It's not so bad,” he said faintly.

 

“What isn't?” Dick asked, and had to look away. His jaw worked as he stared at the wall to his right.

 

“I mean,” Jason sighed. “It is bad. But you've survived worse then being locked in a room and not let out for months. It hurts, but it's not so bad. The bad thing is knowing no one is coming to save you, or help you, and all that's left is pain and darkness and that laughter—” he broke off and Dick forced himself to look back at Jason. “But you. You've survived worse. He wouldn't be able to break you.”

 

“Then he'd kill me,” Dick said. “Besides, I think you have a much higher opinion of me then I do.”

 

“I mean, sure, there's no way I would be allowed to stay,” Jason said. “But you'd always know someone would want to save you, whether they could or not. Not even me, but you'd know Bruce would come for you if he could. Any time, any where, he would come for you.”

 

Dick stared at him. “Jason,” he said finally. “ Why didn't you believe that?”

 

“What do you mean?” Jason asked, as he started to draw away slightly.

 

“Why didn't you have that same faith?” Dick asked, eyes roving around Jason's face. “Jason he tore the city—he almost—he would have moved heaven and earth to find you. We just... _couldn't_. And by the time we thought we found you there was just ash—”

 

“Dick,” Jason said softly. “That's what I mean. You have faith in people, and that they love you.”

 

“And you don't,” Dick finished because Jason had fallen silent.

 

“Yeah, well,” Jason started and Dick surged forward, sliding his hands across Jason's cheeks and yanking him forward. Jason came willingly, shoving Dick back against the wall and crawling into his lap as Dick kissed him, open mouthed and desperate. His arms were at a horrible angle, crushed between them but he didn't care, refusing to move them away from Jason's face.

 

For once the weight of the collar didn't make him pause when Jason shoved his hands up the back of his shirt, just arching his spine away from the wall to give Jason more room. “I—” he started and Jason cut him off by diving back into another kiss. Dick moaned, one of his knees pressed against Jason's side as he focused on the slide of Jason's tongue and the heat of his hands on his back. One of them inched down, dipping below the waist of his pants and Dick tore away from the kiss.

 

“No,” he said and Jason completely froze. His fingers were still rough on Dick's skin and so hot they were distracting.

 

“No?” he asked, cautious and careful.

 

Dick swallowed hard, trying to relax his spine and drawing back enough to meet Jason's eyes. “No,” he repeated. “Not here. Not like this.”

 

“Dick,” Jason said and cut off a hysterical laugh. “Dick, you are probably— _we_ are probably going to die.”

 

“Yes,” Dick agreed softly.

 

“So when exactly do you want to do this?” Jason asked, voice strained and high.

 

Dick stroked his fingertips along Jason's cheekbone and down across his jaw, watching him close his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “I refuse to sleep with you just because we think we're going to die,” he whispered. “I can't. It feels like giving up.”

 

“To be fair,” Jason murmured, eyes still closed. “I've wanted to fuck you since I was fifteen.”

 

“Fifteen?” Dick managed.

 

“Or so,” Jason said, opening his eyes again. “Maybe younger. I think that's when I actually figured it all out. How much I wanted to touch you, watch you come undone.”

 

“Why didn't—” Dick started and shook his head. “No, that's not relevant any more.”

 

“No,” Jason agreed and Dick sighed, letting his head fall against Jason's shoulder, nuzzling against the side of his neck.

 

“I still,” Dick whispered, Jason still all but holding him against the wall and he wrapped his arms around Jason's chest, holding on to his back. “I still can't,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Nah,” Jason said and he drew his hands back to stroke Dick's hair, kissing the top of his head. “You're a fucking mess, and I sorta get it.”

 

“Sorta?” Dick actually laughed, though it was a strained and tiny sound.

 

“Yeah,” Jason said and Dick shivered when he kept petting his hair. “Sorta. I still want to shake you and—but I won't.”

 

“You can kiss me again,” Dick said and Jason paused, still stroking his hair before his slid his hands back and tilted Dick's head up again, pressing a careful kiss to his mouth. Dick realized his hands were shaking when Jason repeated the kiss. “Jason,” he breathed and let Jason continue.

 

-0-

 

“Harvey,” Bruce said, voice flat and for a moment the area around them seemed to still. Tim located Damian and slipped over, making sure they were within reaching distance and keeping his eye half on the hole in the wall. There were still people there, but for the moment their attackers seemed content to watch whatever show Harvey was putting on.

 

He wasn't quite as bad as the Joker, but some days it wasn't so hard to tell they had been trained by the same person.

 

“Let her go,” Bruce said, voice low.

 

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Harvey asked, shaking Steph and she groaned, shifting like she wanted to struggle but couldn't get all her muscles to agree to the plan.

 

“I want you to carefully put her down so it will not hurt her anymore,” Bruce said and Harvey actually started to laugh, shaking his head, and he was holding a gun in his other hand. Meeting Bruce's eyes, he shifted it up, nudging her cheek with it.

 

“And you don't honestly think I would do that, do you?” Harvey asked.

 

Bruce shrugged, looking unaffected and Tim had never actually missed Dick as much as he did in that moment. “You could always flip your coin,” Bruce said, casually and Tim started forward.

 

“I already did,” Harvey said, Damian catching Tim and pulling him back from the confrontation.

 

“You have to let them play it out,” he hissed.

 

“Damn that,” Tim snarled back.

 

“So whatever I say will hardly have a bearing on the outcome,” Bruce said, still quiet and casual and Tim might have been screaming, he couldn't tell.

 

“Well, that's not entirely true,” Harvey said. “I could trade.”

 

“Trade?” Bruce asked, and he sounded bored.

 

Steph was still dangling from a man man's hands and Bruce sounded _bored_.

 

“I want you to admit, before anything else, exactly what you were,” Harvey said. “What you used to be.”

 

“Does that really matter?” Bruce asked and for the first time since Harvey appeared, he actually seemed to hesitate, tilting his head to look back at Damian and Tim. “That time is over. It was a lie anyway.”

 

“A lie?” Harvey laughed. “Yes, it was a lie. But that doesn't wash off the blood from your hands, or the reality that for years you weren't a member of some resistance, you actively followed the warlord. We took you in when your father died—we should have killed you back them as a child.”

 

“Father?” Damian asked, soft.

 

“You haven't told them have you?” Harvey asked. “You, me, the Joker, Cobblepot, all the other lieutenants. We took you in. We raised you. You didn't just float by in the organization, you threw yourself into it. You climbed up the ranks and the only way to do that was bloody. But now you tell your kids you don't kill and they shouldn't either.” He shoved the gun against Steph's cheek, making her moan. “You are a betrayer and usurper, Bruce and—”

 

“Stop it!” Damian yelled. “Stop lying, stop pretending your twisted reality—”

 

“Damian,” Bruce cut him off. “He's not lying.”

 

Both Damian and Tim seemed to come to a complete stop.

 

“But you said—” Damian started and Tim didn't want to look at Bruce's face.

 

“I believe everything I ever said,” Bruce said. “I believe that the only way to create a better world is to live it, to be above this violence, to create _civilization_ again.”

 

“What an idealist,” Harvey said and Bruce turned back to him, about to say something else, to defend himself, or to ask for Steph's life again when there was the loud bang of a shot.

 

It echoed around the suddenly totally silent room before Tim dared to turn around.

 

Cassandra lowered the rifle she was holding, not looking at anyone else except Harvey as he dropped to the ground, Steph collapsing with him.

 

“Cass—” Tim started and there was a scuffle and suddenly people were running away from them instead of toward them. He heard one of them yell that killing was never a part of this, everyone knew Bruce and his would never kill.

 

Tim sank down to his knees, considering throwing up because Cassandra stopped right in front of Bruce, who was looking down at her in the light of the flare, expression queasy. “You lied,” she said, still holding the gun.

 

“Yes,” Bruce said after a beat, and he very carefully did not look over at the corpse at the bottom of the stairs.

 

She tilted her chin back before dropping the gun at his feet and striding over, bending down over Steph and almost totally ignoring Harvey's body to pick up Steph, who groaned and was still out of it. With another accusatory look at Bruce, who had not moved, Cassandra scooped her up and walked out of the room, leaving Bruce and Tim and Damian in the light of the flares.

 

They couldn't look at each other either.

 

“One of us,” Tim started as his ear piece flared on, Barbara's code prefacing the short message.

 

 _The Joker is gone_.

 


	35. Chapter 35

Tim wouldn't admit he wanted nothing less then to go up those stairs but when Bruce turned to stare at him, he knew he would do it.

 

“I'll go,” he said, already moving away from the hole in their wall and the silence between them.

 

Damian looked between Bruce and Tim, hesitantly taking a step forward before stopping.

 

“Go,” Bruce barked and Damian started looping after Tim. “I'll watch here but they could still be on the roof. Check on Barbara.”

 

“Right,” Damian said, and Tim carefully skirted Harvey Dent's body at the bottom of the stairs. Damian seemed to have less issue going around it.

  
Tim wondered if Damian hadn't wanted to leave Bruce alone because Cassandra might have come back—he had never seen her so mad and honestly he wanted nothing more then to lean against the side of the wall and throw up.

 

“Come on, Drake,” and Damian was suddenly there are his elbow, voice quiet. “It's not so much further upstairs.”

 

“I'm fine,” Tim said, snapping automatically and taking the stairs two at a time, lighting another flare on the way up because all he could see in front of them was darkness.

 

On the landing to the second floor, he spotted Barbara spread out on the ground. Biting back his first instinct to cry out to her, he ran down the hall, the flare throwing off red light on the walls. “Babs,” he whispered, in case anyone else was still inside and looking for them.

 

She groaned and pushed herself up to her elbows, red hair wild around her face. “I'm fine,” she snarled, except that there was blood all over her hands and—Tim looked down the hallway, tracking her progress.

 

“You dragged yourself all the way over here,” he said, not a question.

 

“I saw Harley and Pamela,” she said. “They were ignoring Harvey and going that way. A few minutes later they were leaving up the roof with the Joker.” She swore, slamming her fist against the floor. “And I couldn't do anything to stop them!”

 

“To be fair, one against those three would have been—” Tim started and stopped at her glare.

 

“What happened down stairs?' she demanded and Tim froze.

 

“Cass shot Harvey,” Damian said and Barbara pushed herself up to sit, staring at him.

 

“Dead?” she asked, and there was something lurking in the back of her voice.

 

“He had Steph,” Damian shrugged and Tim opened his mouth before closing it again.

 

“Are you injured?” he asked instead. “Beside your hands?”

 

“Bruises on my head where it got hit onto the floor,” she said. “Otherwise no.”

 

“Then come on,” Tim said, because he could deal with this, it was a goal in front of him and he knew what to do. “Let's get you downstairs.”

 

“Do you think they'll be back tonight?” she asked, as Damian came over to support her down the stairs, Tim on her other side.

 

“Not tonight,” Damian said and Tim looked down. At least he could tell himself he was focusing on the stairs.

 

-0-

 

Jason was asleep on Dick's lap when the door rattled and opened. Almost instantly, Jason was tensed and up, eyes narrowed at the door as Clark stuck his head in the door.

 

“You need to move,” he said. “Now.”

 

Dick was on his feet and already half to the door when Jason seemed to process what was happening. “What?” he asked, scrambling up and following. “Who are you?”

 

“Is this really the time?” Clark asked.

 

“Um, yes,” Jason said. “Because as far as I can tell there is no reason to trust you?”

 

“I'm getting you out of here, isn't that a good thing?” he asked.

 

“Not if you're leading us into a trap,” Jason hissed.

 

“I trust him,” Dick said, and stopped next to Clark at the door way. “Even if I don't currently understand what is going on.”

 

Jason stopped, eyes narrowed at Clark before he sighed. “You don't trust a lot of people,” he said under his breath to Dick, who nodded. “Great. Fine.”

 

“This way,” Clark said and slipped out into the darkened corridor.

 

“It wasn't this dark when we came down,” Jason said.

 

“No,” Clark agreed.

 

“Isn't this going to put you in danger?” Dick asked, jogging to catch up with Clark.

 

“It would,” Clark said. “Except I already have an excellent fall person lined up to take the blame instead. It's why it took me so long to get down here.”

 

“And why exactly are you helping us?” Jason asked, as they came to the end of the corridor. Clark paused, looking both ways before he motioned them down a set of stairs. “And why are we going further underground?”

 

“Because this will get you out the fastest,” Clark said. “Honestly.”

 

“Great,” Jason said. “And the first question?” Dick reached out, taking his hand and he felt Jason suck in a breath before letting it out angrily.

 

Clark didn't pause on the stairs but there was something in the line of his shoulders that Dick could see in the faint light. “Because I once knew Bruce Wayne.”

 

“Motherfucking what?” Jason asked, almost tripping on one of the stairs.

 

“I haven't been to Gotham in a long time,” Clark said. “And he certainly hasn't left it.” He looked over his shoulder without stopping. “I assume I should be saving both of you?” he added, addressing the question entirely to Dick.

 

“Yes,” Dick said and he was still holding Jason's hand.

 

“Good,” Clark said and paused, considering the wall in front of them.

 

“Are you kidding? Is this secret entrance level shit?” Jason asked.

 

“I did say this was going to be faster,” Clark said and seemed to find the correct places to hit, the wall sliding open. Clark went first, looking both ways before they followed.

 

“This is insane,” Jason muttered.

 

“Come on,” Clark said.

 

“Are you sure you should be staying with us this far?” Dick asked, jogging after him.

 

“Do you know how to get your bike and get out of the city?” Clark asked.

 

“And you're sure you won't be blamed for this?” Dick asked. “I know... I assume you've been here for a long time.”

 

“Trust me,” Clark said cheerfully and Dick's face twisted, the first indication of how hard that was for him.

 

“I am,” Dick said and they ducked down another street, Clark pressing his arm against Dick's chest to keep him back against the wall as soldiers passed under the lamp posts along the main street.

 

Clark looked back at them. “Okay,” he said softly. “Someone else is already getting your bike. They'll meet us right outside the city.”

 

“You have other people in your crazy plot?” Jason asked.

 

“This is a lot of trouble for us,” Dick said. “To save us, I mean.”

 

Clark turned his head, and his face was shadowed in the alley, the lamps behind him. “A lot of trouble,” he repeated under his breath. “Dick, I remember you, from when you were a kid.”

 

“Yeah?” Dick's brows went up. “And?”

 

“Let's just say I owe Bruce a few favors,” Clark said. “Come on,” he added and Dick looked at Jason for a moment before following.

 

They weaved their way through the streets and Dick kept looking over his shoulder because something didn't feel right—it felt like escaping Lex Luthor should have been much harder.

 

“Here,” Clark said, and they went through a grate to the outside of the city wall. “Just around—” and Clark broke off abruptly, because there was Jason's bike, scarred and dirty and Slade Wilson was sitting on it. “What are you doing here?” Clark asked, his voice turning to ice and Slade shrugged.

 

“Olsen? Seriously?” he asked. “You think a boy like that could sneak a bike out of the city?”

 

Dick's eyes darted from Clark to Slade. “So you got it out for us instead?”

 

Slade smiled a him, shrugging. “Why not?”

 

“This is just to ensure I owe you even more isn't it?” Dick asked and jumped as Slade threw something at him. He caught it automatically, frowning at the little gold key in his hand.

 

“All slavers have a master key,” Slade said. “After all, you never know when you might have to switch out a collar.”

 

Dick blinked at the gold key for a moment before his head snapped back up. “What do you want, Slade?”

 

“You're more daring now that you don't have to pretend anymore,” Slade said. Clark took a step forward and Slade glanced at him before focusing back on Dick. “You think it would be this easy to get out?”

 

“It wasn't,” Clark started.

 

“No,” Dick said at the same time. “I was wondering about that actually.”

 

“Lex is letting you go,” Slade said. “He wants you to run back to Gotham because it's an excuse to follow. It's an excuse to finally declare all out war. After all, who knows what secrets you have with you, what things your taking with you?”

 

Dick's mouth opened and his jaw worked before he closed it again.

 

“Damn,” Jason said behind him.

 

“So that's your choice,” Slade said, with another shrug. “Run, knowing he's probably coming after you, or stay and go back your cell. Who knows how he'd react, being so annoyed that his first plan was foiled? He might kill you. But you can never know with a guy like that.”

 

Clark's fists were clenching and unclenching. “You—how do you know all this?”

 

“Please,” Slade said, annoyed.

 

Dick's eyes flickered to Jason. “It's your city,” Jason muttered, his eyes dark and Dick took a deep breath.

 

He looked back at Slade. “A warning, and a key, on top of everything else. Since we might be parting ways now, I really do have to ask you what exactly you want?”

 

“Well, frankly, I want you to run,” Slade said. “Because I want you back in Gotham. I want you to succeed in that city. I want you to fix it.”

 

“What?” Dick managed.

 

“Don't get me wrong,” Slade said, and ran his fingers over Dick's chin. “Asking for you was on my mind a lot. But I have a better use for you.”

 

“That involves stabilizing Gotham?” Dick asked, wary.

 

“Yes,” Slade said and was already moving back off, dropping his hand and turning away. “But I suggest you make whichever choice fast, because Lex is going to have to start raising the guards soon.” He paused, looking significantly at Clark, whose spine stiffened.

 

Then he was gone in the night, leaving the three of them with the bike.

 

“We go,” Jason said, because Dick was just staring down, the key clenched in his hands.

 

“I need to go back,” Clark said. “I'll try and stall as much as I can here.”

 

“Thank you,” Dick said, faintly and paused. “Do—do you know Dinah Lance?”

 

“Yes,” Clark said, surprised and Dick bent over the bike, digging out the package Ollie had given him. It felt like forever ago.

 

“I was supposed to get this to her,” he said faintly.

 

“I can't promise—” Clark started.

 

“I know,” Dick said. “But if you can.”

 

“Right,” Clark said, accepting it and nodding. “Good luck. Go swiftly while you can.” And Dick nodded, hesitating before slinging himself over the bike, Jason climbing on behind him and they took off into the dark forest.

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So unexpected free concert tickets happened... and then I got food poisoning. (And that is the story of why this chapter took so damned long.)
> 
> This chapter brought to you by Lana Del Rey's "Kinda Outta Luck"

Bruce startled awake and he did not want to ask Cassandra how long she had been there when he looked up and saw her crouched at the foot of his bed. He liked to still think he had some of the same reflexes that he had trained himself too and that came as easily as breathing to her.

 

“You're still here,” he said.

 

“You doubted that?” she asked and he rolled his shoulders, sitting up and letting the thin blanket he slept under fall to his waist. 

 

“I had seriously considered you might take Stephanie and leave,” Bruce said. He had considered other things too, but she did not need to know those. 

 

She shifted, a barely there motion that he saw. Leaning over, he lit a second candle to better see her by. “I would not take Steph from here until she is able to make her own choice,” Cassandra said, eyes flaring at the addition of light.

 

Bruce hummed, considering the candle for a moment before finally looking back at her. “You killed him,” he said, the most obvious way to cut through the silence.

 

“Yes,” she said and Bruce watched her hands tighten and loosen. He was paying more attention to her body and the little shifts in it then her face. “You were going to let him kill her—even though you had—hypocriticallylied to us.”

 

“I wasn't going to let him kill her,” Bruce said first.

 

“No?” she asked, titling her head.

 

“He wanted a trade,” Bruce shrugged.

 

“You think he would have walked out without killing her?” Cassandra asked. “You think he would have just let it go because you admitted you had—”

 

“No,” Bruce said. “That wasn't the trade he was talking about.”

 

Cassandra stilled, looking at Bruce's face in the glow of the candlelight and he carefully held himself still. “The trade was your life for her's,” she said finally, testing the words out in the air between them.

 

“Yes,” he agreed.

 

“You would rather die then kill again,” she said, words heavy in the air between them.

 

For a moment he stared at her, watching the way her chest rose and and fell as she breathed, the way she had stilled like he had. “Yes,” he said.

 

The cackle of the candle was the only sound in the room. “Alright,” she said, rising.

 

“Alright?” he repeated, head tilting back to watch her.

 

“That tells me all it needed to,” she said. “I am going to check on Steph again. Then I will be back.”

 

He nodded, and blew out the candle when she closed the door. Laying back down, he stared at the ceiling in the dim glow of the candle near the door. It was an old fat one, with the hours listed down the side. Looking over at it, he counted the hours until dawn down in his head.

 

-0-

 

“We'll have to ride during the day,” Jason said, and Dick nodded, leaning his elbows against the front of the bike.

 

“What about today?” he asked, because they had been close enough to Metropolis to push through the night, despite the dangers of running lights in the forest.

 

“We can take turns driving,” Jason said after a beat. “Think you can make it?”

 

Dick closed his eyes, trying to remember the last night he felt rested. “I'm good,” he said. “Especially if you drive now.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason said and folded the bag he had taken off the bike back up, hooking it where it belonged. He kept looking at Dick out of the corner of his eye and Dick wanted to kick him for it. Even though it was obvious he was watching Dick feel around the edges of the collar, inching toward the back.

 

“Stop it,” Dick said.

 

“Stop what?” Jason asked.

 

“Staring at me,” Dick muttered.

 

“So,” Jason said, faux casual. “What was up with Slade there?”

 

“Hell if I know what goes on through his mind,” Dick said, fingers still on the collar and he hadn't dared feel out the clasp yet. It felt too unreal that he had a key.

 

“Dick,” Jason said.

 

Closing his eyes, Dick tilted his hand, finally finding the clasp and pressing his fingers there. “I don't know,” he said. “I honestly have no idea. He—he's—trapped me in all that I owe him.”

 

Jason scowled. “Why do you owe him so much?”

 

“He saved your life,” Dick snapped. “He saved my life. He warned us about Luthor, he—” he sighed, ducking his head. “At first I thought he just wanted _me_. He certainly implied it.” He rolled over Jason opening his mouth, looking angry. “Don't. He did. But obviously he's playing a different game.” He signed, head falling forward. “I just don't know what.”

 

When he looked up again Jason was looking to the side. “I'm sure,” he started. “We'll find out.”

 

“Yeah,” Dick said and he finally fished the key out from the pocket in his boots he had dropped it in to. “Think I can do away with this now?”

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Jason said. “Especially considering there's no other cities between here and Gotham.”

 

Dick paused for a moment and then his eyes widened. Jason seemed to catch on to the same thought he had and he laughed. “Bruce's _face_ ,” he said and Dick just shook his head. “Except I think Bruce would ask me if I really had made you my slave—”

 

“He wouldn't,” Dick said automatically. “He would never think that of you.” He paused. “He might think that for a second.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason said. “And sometimes that second is all he needs to act.”

 

Dick decided not to bother denying that, instead inserting the key to the back of the collar and holding his breath until he heard the click and the hinge at the front, hidden in the design opened. The instant it was off he flung it away from himself, landing with a clank on an exposed rock.

 

For a moment neither of them moved. “Feeling better?” Jason asked.

 

Dick paused before he smiled, rolling his shoulders and looking back over at Jason. “We still have to get to Gotham,” he said, rising from the bike.

 

Shaking his head, Jason sat down. “One thing at a time, right?” he asked and paused when Dick suddenly walked over, bending down to pick the collar back up. He watched Dick approach the bike warily. “Change your mind?”

 

“It's probably worth something,” Dick said, shoving it into one of the saddle bags. “Besides you never know. At least I know I have the key now.”

 

And apparently the key to any other slave collar he might encounter, he added to himself, sliding it back into his boot. He tried not to think about the little thrill of power that gave him after the last several weeks.

 

He wondered if Slade did that on purpose as he slid behind Jason, squeezing his waist as they roared back off into the forest.

 

-0-

 

Tim paced in front of the room where the Joker had been. He had been most of the morning since he crawled out of bed.

 

His mind stuttered and skipped over the fact that he had crawled out of bed by crawling over Damian who had dragged him down when he collapsed and held on, claiming loudly he just wanted to make sure he didn't do anything stupid when they both needed rest.

 

It hadn't been more then sleeping tangled up together but it made his skin crawl and he stopped on his circuit, turned around, and started it over.

 

There was spray paint all over the walls and he wished he could stop looking at the HA HA HAs scattered over the room.

 

He figured he should go and see how Steph was doing, and stop by Barbara's room to see if she was awake yet. Even more, he should go back downstairs to Damian and be there when he woke up.

 

Instead he slammed the door open to Bruce's office, coming to a complete stop when he saw Cassandra perched in her usual place. Considering the way she had held the gun on Bruce for a moment too long the night before he was surprised.

 

“Tim,” Bruce said softly, looking up from the desk.

 

Cassandra looked between them before seeming to come to some decision, dropping down from the rafters and sliding out the door. Tim watched her go, assuming she was checking Steph again and feeling the same tiny curl of guilt he was not.

 

He stared after her a long time before Bruce finally spoke again. “Is there something I can do for you?” Bruce asked.

 

“You lied to us,” Tim said, finally looking at him.

 

“I would say I didn't,” Bruce said. “Except lies by omission are still lies.”

 

“Yes, they are,” Tim snapped.

 

Bruce folded his hands in front of him and stared at Tim. “I told you before, about my father?”

 

“Yes,” Tim said. “Of course we heard the story, you told and—” he broke off, heart turning over in pain at who else had told them the story. “He gained power in Gotham and was quickly murdered for believing in the same things you did.”

 

“And you never asked about the middle part of the story, did you?” Bruce asked. “My parents were dead and I was a child. If you were a warlord taking power back from an idealist, what would be your best move?”

 

Tim paused, opening his mouth, closing it and trying again. “I would destroy anything that belonged to him and smacked of his dangerous philosophy.”

 

Bruce stared at him until Tim wanted to crawl away. “Yes.”

 

“But you didn't die,” Tim said, because Bruce was throwing out crumbs for him to follow. “You survived long enough to take power back.”

 

“Yes,” Bruce said. “I survived because I looked like I was one of them. For... years. I had to live that reality or it would never have worked. I threw myself into it, working my way up, participating in the,” and Tim had never heard him pause so often when he spoke. “The culture. The killing, the abuse, the fear. I became trusted so I was sent out as an envoy to other warlords.”

 

Tim's eyes widened. “You had to be trusted enough to get to those other cities alive, present the correct image of the warlord, and survive the trip back,” he said. “That—”

 

Bruce nodded. “I was very trusted. When I turned around and,” he winced. “Very few coups succeed without bloodshed. I did it all in the correct way, killing my predecessor. Only after that did I start to show how differently I wished to rule.”

 

Tim squeezed his eyes closed and tried to breath. “You never _told_ us.”

 

“No,” Bruce agreed.

 

“Why wouldn't you have just told us?” Tim demanded. “Why did it have to come after all these years, after all this—”

 

“Because I didn't want to remember,” Bruce snapped. “Because you—”

 

“Don't you dare say we wouldn't have understood!” Tim yelled and Bruce stopped, drawing his shoulders back just as there was a clatter and Cassandra entered the room again, holding a bird in her hands and looking confused.

 

“This,” she said, holding it up and Tim for the life of him couldn't place what kind of bird it was. “Was trying to get in.”

  
“What?” Tim asked and when he looked over, Bruce's face had gone pale, holding a hand out and motioning Cassandra forward. She went quickly, dropping the bird on the desk and Bruce went instantly for its legs. Tim started at the package Bruce tugged off the bird's legs before gathering the bird back up as it cooed at him and handing it to Cassandra.

 

“See if you can find food for it,” he said. “And send it back.”

 

“Back where?” she asked and he stared at her until she turned and left.

 

“What is going on?” Tim asked, feeling sick because this was another puzzle piece he didn't have. Any more and he might never trust Bruce again.

  
But Bruce was already unrolling the package and shaking out several tiny sheets of paper. He froze the instant they hit the desk and Tim thought he had stopped breathing. “Bruce,” he said, leaning over and felt like he had been punched in the gut.

 

Printed on faded paper where three photos. They were a little blurry, but Dick's face was clear in two of them, scratched up and bruised and a heavy golden collar around his throat, pressed up against the side of a taller man who had an arm possessively around his waist. “That's a slave collar,” he said, because the obviousness of it made him want to throw up.

 

The man was Jason, his mind processed a second later, sliding over to the photo where Dick's face wasn't clear. Instead Jason's was, looking down at him as Dick tilted up to him.

 

“Jason's with him,” Bruce said, voice hollow and continuing their sudden trend of stating the obvious to each other.

 

“He's alive,” Tim said and wanted to sit on the floor and cry. His hands were shaking.

 

“Yes,” Bruce said and Tim had never heard his voice break on a word before. “But why is he in Metropolis?”

 

Tim almost asked him how he knew it was Metropolis when Damian slammed the door open.

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've seem to have settled into a pattern of every three days one chapter appears. 
> 
> Of course now that I've said that who knows what will happen *laughs*

For a second Tim had no idea if he wanted to snatch the pictures before Damian could see them, or shove them under his nose.

 

“Drake,” Damian said, and there was ice in his voice before he looked at his father and something hesitated and broke behind his expression. “Father,” he greeted a bit more quietly and Bruce held out the first photo he picked up, one where Dick was looking just off from the camera. “What is—?” Damian started and walked over, plucking the photo out of Bruce's hand and freezing.

 

“Damian,” Tim said when he thought it had been too long since he breathed.

 

“Grayson,” Damian said, voice tiny and Tim had never heard him sound quite so lost.

 

“Yes,” Bruce said.

 

Damian thrust his hand out and Bruce dropped the other two photos there and Damian just stared at them, as if he could make Dick appear in front of him just by wishing it hard enough. “He looks awful,” Damian said and then exploded into motion, pacing the room and still holding the photos. Tim almost wanted to snatch them back just to assure himself it really was Dick.

 

“Damian,” Bruce started.

 

“No,” Damian said, though Bruce had not asked him anything. “No, this,” he gestured. “Where is he? Why isn't he back? Why is he wearing a collar and what happened and why _hasn't he gotten back yet_?”

 

Bruce's hand clenched and he forcefully pried his fingers apart. “I'm sure,” he started and had to try again. “That he is trying.”

 

“Not hard enough,” Damian snapped. “Todd is with him.”

 

“Damian,” Tim said, his own stomach churning. “It's not like they ran away—”

 

“He's wearing a collar!” Damian yelled and Tim and Bruce both winced. “Why is he wearing a collar? Why is Todd holding him like that? Where are they?”

 

“Metropolis,” Bruce said and Tim and Damian both stared at him.

 

“How do you _know_?” Tim demanded and he could feel the way his voice had turned to ice.

 

Bruce glanced at him and then turned back to the more agitated Damian. “Because there's only one man in the world who would send me a carrier pigeon and know to send those photos in the first place.” His mouth almost turned up for a moment before it flattened again.

 

“What are they doing in Metropolis?” Damian yelled. “Why aren't they here? They're alive—Grayson is alive! And instead he,” he gestured with the pictures and Tim reached forward, almost taking them back before Damian damaged them. “He's with Jason. Why hasn't he come back?”

 

And his voice was almost breaking and Tim remembered how they used to talk, about if Dick ran away with Jason. He never really believed it would happen, not the way Damian sometimes sounded like he did.

 

Because Jason had always been in love with Dick as much as he hated him and anyone else beside Dick could see it. And Dick had never been willing to give up on Jason even when Bruce actively threw him out of Gotham, Jason laughing in his face the whole way. It was too easy to see Dick following him to try and save him.

 

“Jason went after him,” Tim said instead. “To bring him back.”

 

“Which he obviously hasn't done!” Damian yelled again.

 

“We don't know,” Tim said. “Anything could have happened—”

 

“To take this long?” Damian demanded.

 

“We don't know,” Tim repeated, voice strained.

 

“Exactly!” Damian said. “For all we know they'll never come back, this is the last we'll ever see of either of them and—”

 

Tim finally looked back over at Bruce, his knuckles white and his face frozen. “Or they could be on their way here,” he said softly.

 

“He's alive,” Bruce said, each word hard. “That's what matters.”

  
“Is it?” Damian asked, strained, finally looking back at his father. “If he never comes home? If you never see him again, that's fine? That he's made a life—”

 

“Damian,” Bruce managed and Damian clicked his jaw shut.

 

Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Damian took a deep breath before he let it out again, walking over to the desk and setting the photos down. He paused, on the one where Dick was looking just off to the side of the camera and he took that one back, leaving the other two. Before Tim or Bruce could protest he turned and left.

 

That left Tim and Bruce standing as they were before Damian had come in.

 

“He,” Tim started and shook his head. Bruce refused to look at him so he left the room too, closing the door softly behind him.

 

For a while he stood in the hallway, shaking before he turned and went to Dick's room.

 

There was Damian, sitting in the middle of his bed, head bowed over over the photograph. “We can't just assume the worst,” Tim whispered.

 

“What else is there to assume?” Damian asked, not looking up and his fingers were tracing the air over the photograph. “Look at them.”

 

“It doesn't mean—” Tim started and bent over Damian's shoulder to look at the photo again. It was still Dick, alert and watching, his arm around Jason's waist. “Look,” he said. “Look at his hand,” and it was pressed on Jason's back, one of his fingers raised and Damian frowned.

 

“Morse Code,” he said.

 

“Possibly,” Tim said.

 

“He looks awful,” Damian whispered and the photo had caught his cheek, where there was an ugly but faint bruise under scratches. There were circles under his eyes and his hair was shorter then either of them remembered and growing out unevenly.

 

“We don't know what's happened,” Tim repeated and Damian turned suddenly, throwing himself at Tim and he was startled enough he fell over backward.

 

When Damian slammed their mouths together, Tim let him because it was better then whatever else Damian might get up to. If he wasn't kissing Tim, who knows where he might go, what danger he might recklessly seek out.

 

And if his arms came up and dug into the muscles on Damian's back hard and desperate it was just because he didn't want Damian to get too far away.

 

-0-

 

That evening, Bruce went out to the square in front of the old city hall, gathering rubble together by himself until at dusk he was able to light at bonfire.

 

He stood out in the coming darkness, watching the fire leap up into the air. By the time it was fully dark, Cassandra, Tim and Damian were all outside with him, and they watched the other fires start to pop up all over the city.

 

“Things are back to normal then,” Damian said, and there were no signs of his breakdown earlier, of his panic and fear. Nor where there any signs that he had been muffling whimpers and sighs into Tim's shoulder until they fell into an exhausted tangle and slept.

 

“Yes,” Cassandra said, except she was staring at a point next to Bruce, as if imagining Steph needed to be standing there.

 

“Should we patrol?” Tim asked, voice level.

 

“Not tonight,” Bruce said, and they remained standing in front of the fire, a defiant refusal to hide or stay away.

 

Tim did not ask where Barbara had gone.

 

-0-

 

Jason tried not to focus on Dick pressed up against his back, his arms warm around his waist. The last night they had taken turns sleeping and Jason had been so tense listening for sounds of pursuit that he had no time to dwell on Dick's bare neck, or the way he slept curled up on his side, arms clutched to his chest.

 

But for some reason now it was all he could think about, because for the first time since Dick had kissed him he wasn't wearing a collar and they weren't acting for anyone.

 

“Hey, Dick,” he started and against his back Dick hummed, and he sounded almost asleep so Jason became quiet again.

 

“What is it?” Dick asked when there was silence for too long.

 

“It's,” Jason started and slammed on the brakes of the bike, skidding across a patch of mud and almost throwing them both from the bike. But they avoided the net that had dropped down from the tree in front of them.

 

Dick was already moving the instant the bike came to a stop, rolling and snagging the rifle off the side of the bike and coming up into a fighting stance in time to block the first blow from the knife aimed at his head. Jason had his handguns out and shot one of the attackers coming out of the trees.

 

“Do you think these are the same jokers?” he asked and almost got distracted just watching Dick move. It had been so long since he'd seen Dick moving to fight, and it made his chest hurt.

 

“There's less of them,” Dick replied, jumping back and twisting around the attacker, using the rifle as a blunt weapon for the moment.

 

“Right,” Jason said and made the choice not to shoot the woman struggling with Dick. He could take care of himself and Jason aimed at another attacker, dropping them before they could get close to the bike. Standing up on the knocked over bike, Jason had a better view of the area, even as it made him a more obvious target.

 

He got two more of the attackers before one he didn't see coming got up behind him. He went over the bike and rolled, trying to come back up in time to smashed in the head with a bat. Ears ringing, he staggered and came back up, shot going wild.

 

There was another blow to his ribs and he forced himself to breath through it, flipping his knife out of his belt and stabbing, only to have it glance off something metal beneath his attacker's clothing. Swearing, he lost himself in the flurry of blows until he realized he was loosing.

 

Whoever was attacking him was trained and that irritated him. They were coming after him and he was losing ground which was _pathetic_ , he had been so stupidly distracted and now—

 

Now he was tripped on to the ground, knife lost somewhere in the damp foliage and his hand holding the gun had a booted foot pressed hard against his wrist. “Get off,” he snarled and there was a knife against his throat and honestly he couldn't quite track the moments that got him into this position—

 

And this was the second time he had been pinned down to the ground and when had he gotten so soft as to allow this? He thrust his knee up to no avail and he wanted to scream. The man fell off him and Jason managed to spring to his feet, only to have the knife shoved up between his ribs. Gasping, he staggered back, the knife coming back up and he couldn't get his arm up and moving when he heard a gun shot go off.

 

For a second he couldn't quite process where it came from, or where it had gone before the man in front of him collapsed into a pile. Pressing his hand against his side, he frowned down at the man as he convulsed once and died.

 

He turned his head to see Dick standing with the rifle up and saw his face turn from grim determination to complete horror.

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a long time (Had a minor breakdown for no reason in the middle of it, got distracted rewatching the ball scene from Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake) but here we are! Yay!

The first thing Dick did was drop the gun and step back as it was on fire and Jason swayed for a moment, trying to gauge how deep the knife went and watching Dick.

 

“Dick,” he said, because there were no more attackers around them and Dick wasn't moving, wasn't saying anything. Dick startled, eyes snapping up from the gun and it took a moment too long to focus on Jason.

 

“You're bleeding,” he said, already moving forward and his movements were jerky and as far from his usual grace as possible.

 

Jason pressed his fingers harder. “It didn't get past the bone,” he said. “It's fine.”

 

“No,” Dick said and he was almost there when he saw the body in front of Jason and staggered again. “You're bleeding,” he said, trying to save himself.

 

“I'll slap a bandage on it,” Jason said. “We need to keep going in case anyone else comes.”

 

“Who were they?” Dick asked, and his hand fluttered before he missed when Jason stepped back.  
  
“Dick,” he said, trying to make his voice firm and Dick's shoulders twitched. “Dick. It doesn't matter.”

 

“Doesn't it?” he asked, not quite looking at Jason.

 

“No,” Jason said and he was moving, Dick still standing behind him and staring. Reaching the bike, Jason fumbled for the bandages, his hand covered in his own blood. Snarling at himself, he refused to look back over at where Dick still stood, brutally wrapping his own chest. “I'll grab the gun,” he added, ignoring the pain in his chest because he wasn't willing to leave the rifle as much as he wasn't willing to demand Dick get it.

 

“I—” Dick started and he was still standing there shaking.

 

“Dick,” Jason snapped and finally Dick's head turned back to him. “I know. Okay? But we can't stay here or we'll probably die too. We have to go.”

 

“But,” Dick started.

 

“Dick,” Jason said again and watched a shudder go all the way through him. “You have to figure it out.”

 

“Figure what out?” Dick asked and his hands kept twitching, fingers curling and uncurling, like he wanted to grab something.

 

“What you're going to live for,” Jason said. “You figure out what you're living for and you do _anything_ for that reason. You hitch yourself to it or you fall apart.”

 

Closing his eyes, Dick slowly nodded before he started approaching Jason and the bike again. He stopped next to Jason, his head bowed before he slowly lifted it, his blue eyes wide. “Is that what you have?”

 

“Yes,” Jason said.

 

“And you—” Dick started and stopped. “It works?”

 

“Everyone survives somehow,” Jason said.

 

Closing his eyes again, Dick inclined his head, almost accepting. “I'll drive,” he said and Jason could see him pulling the threads of himself back together. In another few minutes Dick might even pretend to smile as if he wasn't on the edge of breaking. Jason had seen it before but it had never quite struck him how quickly Dick was capable of putting himself together.

 

He wondered if each time there were more cracks left behind.

 

“Okay,” he said finally, because neither of them should be driving the bike, but of the two of them Dick was probably the better choice. “Okay.”

 

-0-

 

Steph was sitting up when Cassandra slipped into the room. “How's Bruce?” she asked.

 

“Fine,” Cassandra said, dropping onto the edge of her pallet and watching her.

 

“Doesn't need any guarding?” Steph asked, and she was tracing patterns on the blanket.

 

“He can spare me for the moment,” Cassandra said and her voice wasn't quite as even as usual. Instead she held out the plate she had brought down. “You should eat.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Steph said, pulling the plate toward her lap and then just holding it there. “Hey,” she said after a beat. “I was pretty out of things you know? Like super out of things. I think my concussion still has a concussion. I mean, Babs has been great keeping an eye on me, and she told me about the Joker getting out and stuff. But I can't help but feel like I'm still missing something everyone else knows—”

 

“Bruce killed people,” Cassandra said.

 

Steph almost knocked the plate off her lap. “Holy fuck.”

 

“In the past,” Cassandra amended. “To rise to power. He killed people. He used to work for the Warlords when they ruled and took power from them in the traditional way. Only then did he become more like the man we know now.”

 

“I think—” Steph started and when she bent over Cassandra froze, hesitantly reaching a hand out to press against her back. “No, no, apparently I'm not going to be sick. I think I'm okay.”

 

“Are you sure?” Cassandra frowned.

 

“No,” Steph said but managed to straighten. “It's cool, I'm fine.”

 

Cassandra shifted, putting more distance between them again and Steph frowned. “You are not pleased by this news.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Steph asked. “Of course I'm not, it's Bruce _Wayne_ , he promised—he wanted a better world what the fuck was he doing with them, how the fuck did he—” she broke off, shaking her head. “Jesus. Give me a minute.”

 

“Alright,” Cassandra said and after a moment Steph raised her head, watching Cassandra's face.

 

“You are actually counting down from a minute, aren't you?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twisting.

 

“That is what you asked for,” Cassandra said, her shoulders curling in slightly. “Isn't it?”

 

“Okay,” Steph said. “You can tell me the other thing now.”

 

“What other thing?” Cassandra asked, even though she looked away as she said it.

 

“Uh-huh,” Steph said. “The other thing that's been bothering you that you haven't wanted to talk about. Clearly. That thing. So you might as well just get it off your chest.”

 

Cassandra blinked at the wall before finally turning her head back. “I killed Harvey Dent,” she said, voice hollow and without inflection.

 

Sucking in a breath, Steph stared at her. She considered screaming, considering slamming the plate in her lap and full of food against Cassandra's head. She also wanted to lean forward and pull her into a hug and never let go. “Why?” she asked instead of anything else.

 

“Because he had a gun to your head,” Cassandra said and Steph buried her face in her hands, almost knocking the plate askew and Cassandra darted forward, steadying it. Once the moment was past, it left Cassandra mostly leaning over Steph's lap, face above her collarbone. Peeking through her fingers, Steph didn't dare move more because Cassandra was staring at her face too intently.

 

“Cass?”

 

And just like that Cassandra had straightened and was near the foot of the bed again. “You should eat.”

 

“I'm not feeling hungry at the moment,” Steph said.

 

“Should still eat,” Cassandra said and Steph sighed, picking at the plate.

 

“There, I'm eating,” she said, after she swallowed the first mouthful. “Happy?”

 

Cassandra just kept staring at her, and with another sigh, she went back to eating until the plate was clean. She flipped it sideways to show Cassandra. “There. Now are you happy?”

 

“Not quite happy,” Cassandra said. “But I am glad.”

 

Steph made a disgruntled sound, eyes moving to the wall, watching the flame's shadow dance along it. “Are you alright?” she asked.

 

“I am not the one injured,” Cassandra said.

 

Steph huffed. “I know that. I meant, about everything else.”

 

“I am just,” Cassandra started and when Steph looked back she had inched closer, a furrow between her brow as she stared at Steph. “Happy you're still alright.”

 

“I'm really sore,” Steph said. “I hurt like shit. Fine is relative.”

 

“You will be fine,” Cassandra said and for a giddy second Steph had no idea if Cassandra was looking at her eyes or mouth. “That's what matters.”

 

“Yeah?” Steph asked because Cassandra had gotten closer and then stopped. For a while they just stared at each other. “Hey, Cass?” Steph whispered and Cassandra was staring at her, too intent. She hummed and Steph refused to back down. “Anything else you might be interested in saying?”

 

“No,” Cassandra said, and didn't move away.

 

“No?” Steph started just as Cassandra shifted forward and Steph had time to suck in air before Cassandra kissed her.

 

It was a brief press of their mouths, and she had time to notice that Cassandra's hands were on either side of her hips and that her lips were chapped and warm when Cassandra was gone and already halfway to the door.

 

“Cass! Cass, don't—!” but she was already gone and when Steph tired to hurl herself forward, the pain in her body stopped her with a gasp. “Fuck!” she yelled and didn't care if anyone else heard her.

 

-0-

 

“We should stop here for the night,” Jason said and Dick just trailed after him as he wheeled the bike into the cave. Dick automatically lit the lamp, holding it up to the back of the small cave. He didn't ask Jason how he knew about it or if he had been there before.

 

He had in fact spent the rest of the day driving the bike in almost dead silence.

 

If Jason wasn't so disgusted with himself and in less pain he might have been paying more attention to that.

 

Instead, he winced as he let himself down on the other side of the bike, Dick hooking the lamp up to the side of the bike before going back to the mouth of the cave. For a moment he stood there, before making sure the vines covering the mouth of the cave would fall enough to hide their light.

 

“How's your side?” he asked.

 

“Fuck,” Jason hissed. “My ribs are fine, thanks.”

 

Dick stood still a moment longer before walking over, kneeling next to Jason and tugging his shirt up. “I'll clean it,” he said.

 

“I can do it myself,” Jason insisted.

 

“Shut up,” Dick said, not looking at his face. “Now isn't the time,” and his fingers were gentle as he pulled the bandage away, and probed the skin. “It's small.”

 

“Yeah, that really means it hurts any less,” Jason said and he wanted to bite his tongue through because he kept saying the worse thing. Dick just methodically went through the motions, using the smallest amount of water possible to clean the wound before tapping gauze over it.

 

“I'd say don't strain it—” Dick said and there was almost warmth in his voice.

 

Jason flinched. “Dick,” he started.

 

“I'll take first watch,” Dick said, suddenly rising and moving away.

 

“No, you drove all day,” Jason said, twisting to follow him with his eyes and wincing. “I'll take first watch.”

 

“No, it's fine,” Dick shook his head and Jason scowled over at him.

 

“No,” he insisted, certain that leaving Dick alone with himself first would only be a horrible mistake. “I'll take first. You need to sleep.”

 

Dick narrowed his eyes at him, finally sitting back down across from him. “You need the rest,” he said. “To heal. It's been a long day.”

 

“Fuck you, Dick,” Jason said. “I said I'll take first watch.”

 

They fell silent, watching each other across the little cave. “Or we can sit here trying to out last the other,” Jason said and Dick's eyes just narrowed more.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you after: Headaches, fever, loss of internet, and various other minor calamities that made writing incredibly difficult. 
> 
> Cheers

Dick shifted and then met Jason's eyes. “What is it?”

 

“What is what?” Jason replied, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice. 

 

Narrowing his eyes, Dick tossed the hair out of his eyes. “What is this thing that has made you so angry.”

 

“I'm not angry,” Jason said.

 

“Jason.”

 

Looking away, Jason rolled his shoulders, unwilling to say _because I failed_ , or _because while I know that all it takes is one bad day and one slip and you're dead and there's always someone trained better then you I was still expecting not to need you to save me_.

 

“It's nothing,” he said again and because Dick opened his mouth and was about to push he said the first thing that came to mind that might deflect Dick from what he didn't want to say. “I forgot to strip the bodies.”

 

He regretted it the moment the words were out of his mouth, because Dick was up and staggering. He reached the mouth of their cave before he fell to his knees, retching with nothing to throw up except bile. “Shit,” Jason managed to himself, up and moving. “Dick—”

 

“Don't _touch me_ ,” Dick gasped, one hand pressed against his chest and the other grasping the floor. Jason's arms froze, almost having reached around to brace Dick.

 

“Okay,” he said, dropping his arms.

 

“How do you—” Dick started and decided against his first question. “I _killed_ someone.” He raised his head, another shake going through his own body but there had been almost nothing to throw up anyway. Jason processed a moment too late that Dick had already done exactly that, sometime when he wasn't looking too closely. “I killed someone.”

 

“I know,” Jason said, hands still hovering but he did not reach out again.

 

Dick braced his elbows on the ground, hiding his face behind his hands. “I can't—” he started. “Even—I killed someone Jay.”

 

Swallowing, Jason just nodded even though he knew Dick could not see him.

 

“I killed someone,” Dick repeated, like each time he was carving a little bit more of a scar into his soul, as if he refused to entertain the thought of ever forgetting that stark fact. “Because they were going to hurt you and there was no one else around and I couldn't think, couldn't figure out how to aim fast enough, so they couldn't hurt you more—kill you—and I killed them.”

 

Jason closed his eyes and nodded again.

 

“Does it get easier?” Dick asked and when Jason opened his eyes he was staring at him, blue eyes wide and wild and his fingers were still idly scrabbling on the ground.

 

“Killing people?” Jason asked. “Not if you don't let it.” Dick tilted his head and Jason leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look. You can let it destroy you, you can. It's not that hard. Because you realize exactly what you're doing and—but I made a choice that I was gonna survive no matter what. And I'm not always so good at that. You make one stupid mistake and it's over and it's because you were off for one second. But you make that choice and you have to stick to it. You have to be willing to do anything.”

 

“What if I'm not?” Dick asked and his head was hanging down again.

 

“Dick,” Jason said and it felt torn out of him.

 

Dick seemed to give in, curling on himself and wrapping his arms around his face. “I don't know what to do,” he said and Jason reached out again, hesitantly putting his hand on Dick's shoulder. After a second Dick's hand came up, grabbing his and twisting their fingers together, tight enough to be painful.

 

Without letting go, Jason shifted so that he laid down next to Dick, wrapping his arms around him and Dick let go of himself enough to press against Jason, tucking his head under his chin.

 

“Dick,” Jason murmured.

 

And he started shaking again, fine tremors going up and down and Jason held him tighter, even when he realized Dick was crying.

 

-0-

 

“Oh,” Steph said when Tim entered the room.

 

“Oh?” he repeated warily. “That's the sort of greeting I deserve now?”

 

“Deserve, eh,” she shrugged. “Maybe not.”

 

“You were expecting someone else though,” Tim said, setting the plate down and crossing his legs next to her pallet. “Cass, maybe?”

 

Steph pulled a face at him. “It could have been Damian.”

 

Tim's look was narrow eyed and she tried not to wonder exactly what he and Damian were getting up to. “I doubt it,” Tim said. “You two don't get along very well.”

 

“That's the understatement of the week,” she said, picking at the food on her plate. “Do you think things were easier when we just were, you know, together?”

 

Tim blinked, clearly thrown but then his eyes narrowed as he considered the question. “We weren't always very good together.”

 

“Because you can be a controlling freak and I can be angry and loud?” she said and the corners of his mouth twisted. It made her chest feel warm, to know enough distance and time had passed that they could joke about it.

 

For a few months there they couldn't even look at each other and would patrol opposite sides of Gotham.

 

“Something like that,” he said mildly.

 

“Yeah, but now you're doing—something—with Damian of all people,” Steph said. “I mean, do you actually have any idea of what that something _is_?”

 

“I thought we already talked about that,” Tim said, tone still mild.

 

“Yeah,” she offered warily.

 

“So why bring it up again?” Tim asked.

 

“Because it's still crazy?”

 

“Steph,” Tim said and it was his quiet voice, the one he used when he wanted her to really pay attention to what he was asking.

 

“Cass kissed me,” Steph said, looking at the wall instead of his expression. “It's funny, yeah? All of us falling together and into each other and fucking it up? She ran away the instant she did it of course.”

 

“I,” Tim started and shook his head. “Honestly,” he said and wasn't meeting her eyes either. “Who else would we kiss besides each other?”

 

A strangled laugh caught in Steph's throat. “Point taken.”

 

“Do you want me to—”

 

“Find her for me and send her down?” Steph asked and he nodded. “No,” she sighed like it hurt. “No. She's gotta be the one you know? Thanks for bringing the grub though.”

 

“You're welcome,” he said softly.

 

-0-

 

Dick woke up slowly, listening to Jason's breathing from where his ear was pressed to his chest. For a moment he just basked there, not caring how he got there or why, and for the minute it took his brain to wake up, he was happy.

 

Except then he remembered and slid out from Jason's arms, crawling to the cave mouth and pulling his knees up to his chest to keep from retching again.

 

“You should try to get some food or water in to you,” Jason said and Dick turned his head, seeing Jason's eyes open and watching him.

 

“I don't think—” he started. “I can try but I can't say anything will stay down.”

 

Jason sighed, and was obviously considering saying something, But he seemed to think better of it, pushing himself up to sit and Dick felt his chest go tight because Jason was rumpled, and his hair was sticking out in weird places and he wanted to crawl back into Jason's lap and wrap his arms around him.

 

Instead he looked out the vines over the cave mouth, into the pale grey of early morning. “It's raining,” he said, and frowned, pushing aside one of the vines. “Acid rain.”

 

“What?” Jason crawled over to him and frowned. “Shit. We need to wait it out then.” Dick let the vines drop back, posture tight. “It means no one else is going to be out in that either,” Jason said and Dick nodded. “I know it's more time between us and Gotham but,” he rolled his shoulders. “Come on. Let's try and get you to eat something, yeah?”

 

“I'm not,” Dick started and shook his head, still curled up by the entrance. “Hungry. Nor someone to be coddled.”

 

“We aren't going anywhere, Dick,” Jason said and wondered if anyone else might not be better to have here right now. Tim or even Cassandra would probably have a better idea what to say to Dick.

 

For a while Dick kept staring out through the vines before he finally nodded, rising on shaky legs to move to the other side of the bike, which was parked halfway into the cave, the wind up lantern nestled behind it. Jason watched him as he followed, trying to figure out what was too close and what was too far away.

 

“We're probably only three or four days away from Gotham now,” Jason said, still watching. The line of Dick's back tensed but he nodded. “You—you don't have to tell Bruce, you know,” Jason said. “I mean, if you're worried about it. I know saying you did it for me isn't going to win you any points—”

 

Dick finally looked at him. “Not win any points? Jesus Christ, Jason. Bruce would—It's not about Bruce anyway. But he wouldn't blame me for trying to protect you. He misses you.”

 

“Sure,” Jason huffed and Dick grabbed his arm, holding on.

 

“I'm not just saying that.”

 

“There's too much shit between us,” Jason said.

 

“I _know_ ,” Dick said. “I know it's hard for you to believe me about Bruce. But he misses you because he loves you. Nothing is going to change that. He won't blame me for killing someone to protect you. I'm just trying to figure out how to live with _myself_ , it has—very little do with Bruce.”

 

“You were gonna try and say nothing, weren't you?” Jason asked and that was the first even half smile he had gotten from Dick.

 

“You can't really escape Bruce Wayne,” Dick said quietly. “Not after he takes you in.” He stopped and Jason shoved a packet of rations at him. “I can't not tell him.”

 

Jason shrugged. “It's not skin off my nose if you tell him or not.”

 

Dick turned the packet over a few times and Jason wished he had any sort of food except dense field rations to give to Dick. “Hey, Jason?”

 

“What?”

 

Dick looked up at him and Jason almost took a step back. “You said you figured something out, something to hold on to and get you through things.” He paused and Jason almost considered running, acid rain or no. “What is your reason?”

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The World Is Not Enough" by Garbage is your music choice for this chapter

“If you didn't want me to ask, you shouldn't have ever said it,” Dick said when Jason had stared at him in silence for too long.

 

“I was desperate,” Jason said and Dick blinked once. “Shit, that—I needed you to move.”

 

“Jason,” Dick said, voice level and Jason braced his elbows on his knees, his legs crossed in front of him.

 

“Okay,” he said, as evenly as he could. “But let's be clear that this reason can change, and it has changed. I'm not talking like North Star guiding you as a fixed point forever. I mean like when you're oriented one way that's your guide and then you go the other way and you chose another star to follow.”

 

“I thought you said you didn't know about the stars,” Dick said, almost shyly.

 

“Not enough to navigate by them, asshole. I said nothing about the concept of them.”

 

The corner of Dick's mouth twitched but he nodded. “Okay. So you have different ones.”

 

“At first it was my mom,” Jason said because it felt right to get the hardest one out first. “I did everything for her and watched her—” he broke off because it never became easier to talk about. “After that it was Bruce. And then it was getting out alive to kill Bruce myself,” and he said that quickly, to get it all out. Dick had tensed, holding himself still but not flinching away from Jason. “When I was in that dark room alone with me and my thoughts all I could think about was how angry I was how much I hated him for leaving me there—I just wanted to give him back some of that pain.” He sighed, and he was gripping his knees tightly enough his knuckles were white.

 

“I'm starting to figure out I don't even have to physically attack him to achieve that,” Jason added and Dick started breathing again. “After that, I don't know. I've been drifting. I tried to leave Gotham, you know? And not come back again. Except no matter where I went, in a few more weeks I would be restless and no matter how long I stayed away it would only get better at Gotham but—” he shook his head. “I'm not sure. Maybe I'm living for that stupid city now.” He paused, throat dry and words caught behind his tongue.

 

“Lately it's been you,” he said and Dick's eyes were too wide, the sound of the sizzling rain outside too loud. “I mean, getting up every day to keep you safe, to get you home, to protect you.”

 

“But that's technical,” Dick said. “It's not about me as a person. It's about getting me from here home.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason said.

 

“So it's not even one all encompassing reason, or one reason that means everything,” Dick said and Jason paused before nodding again. “Just something. Worth going on for.”

 

“Yeah,” he whispered and Dick nodded, eyes distant.

 

“Okay,” he said softly and shifted so that he was curled up against Jason's side. Jason tensed before wrapping an arm around Dick's waist and holding him. The position felt oddly familiar after the last several weeks.

 

After a while, Dick shifted, pressing his mouth against Jason's shoulder, despite how filthy his coat was. “Dick,” Jason whispered and Dick leaned up, kissing his throat and Jason swallowed back a moan.

 

Still moving slowly, Dick shifted and Jason turned, wrapping both his arms around Dick's waist now as Dick crawled into his lap, still kissing him gently where he could reach. “Dick,” Jason repeated. “Just—tell me. What are you thinking?”

 

“That,” Dick started and frowned. “I just—” He paused, kissing the hollow of Jason's collarbone and he sucked in a breath, forcing himself to wait for Dick's answer. “There's no collar, no cameras, no one watching.”

 

“You're also—” Jason started and Dick kissed him viciously, hands on the back of Jason's head, knees on either side of his waist. Groaning, Jason caught him, hands folding around Dick's hips and holding on. For a while, just like Dick had been content to press against his side and steal his warmth, now Dick seemed content to kiss him, alternating between deep and long kisses, focused on the slide of their tongues and eating Jason's moans, and soft teasing kisses, biting Jason's bottom lip and leaving soft kisses over his cheekbones.

 

“Not that I'm against this,” Jason said, when Dick pulled away, eyes dark, and he traced a hand down Dick's throat, feeling him swallow. “But why right now?”

 

“Because you were honest with me,” Dick said. “Because I've _wanted_ to a long time.”

 

“You're not—” Jason started and Dick cut him off again.

 

“Are you really going to tell me I'm not in my right mind for this?” Dick asked, and he swiveled his hips. Jerking, Jason bit the inside of his cheek. “I love you.”

 

“I don't want this just to be because you're hurting,” Jason said and Dick froze.

 

“Jason,” he said, quiet but firm. “It's _not_. I'd never use you like that. I want this. I want you and me and everything we are and everything we can do.”

 

Jason's eyes fluttered closed. “Damn,” he breathed and Dick swooped in again, his mouth hot and hard over Jason's. “Do you know how long I've wanted—?”

 

“No,” Dick admitted and one of his hands wormed under Jason's coat and shirt, making his stomach leap at the light touch. “No I don't.” He tilted his head, biting the line of Jason's jaw lightly and Jason slid his hands down, cupping Dick's ass and laughing at the glare at earned him.

 

“Sensitive?”

 

Dick's eyes narrowed at him and he bit Jason's jaw harder, earning another jerk and moan. “No,” Dick answered his question that Jason had already forgotten. When Dick's hand reached his spine, stroking up under his clothes Jason gave up with a muffled roar, getting his hands under Dick's shirt and yanking it upward, dislodging Dick's hands from underneath his clothes.

 

That earned a startled laugh and Dick was on him, not even giving Jason the time to really marvel at his chest, pushing him down to the ground and latching back on to his throat at the same time he got Jason's coat and shirt off, Jason only feebly attempting to help.

 

Their choices and the ran felt like it was all a world away because Dick was actually smiling against his mouth. A different smile from his usual grin, something smaller and softer and sadder, but it was still a smile.

 

“I love you,” Jason said. “I get to say that right now, right?”

 

“If you want,” Dick said and his smile widened for just a second before he pulled back. “I can take hearing it.”

 

“Good,” Jason said and went for his pants while Dick was still distracted. Dick startled before he grinned again, raising his hips and going up on his knees over Jason to help him get his pants down, except he fell over sideways when they got tangled in his boots and had to kick the whole mess off while Jason laughed.

 

“You're more graceful getting out of full body bindings then your own clothes,” he said but rolled over because Dick was naked and spread out on the ground in front of him, dirty from their travel and fight but gloriously naked and aroused and panting. He tilted his whole body up against Jason's when Jason leaned over him and kissed him, tangling his hands in Jason's hair before reaching down to fumble at Jason's pants.

 

“I wish I knew sex made you this clumsy, it would have made my child hood so much easier,” Jason said and Dick shoved a shoulder into Jason's chest.

 

“Shut up,” he gasped and it was easy to forget for a second the way Dick had clung to him and broken.

 

Jason stopped, bracing his hands on either side of Dick's head and staring down at him. “I need to know,” he said. “Are you okay?”

 

“Are you?” Dick asked, and on the ground he shifted, tilting his head to one side to see Jason's face better.

 

“I just want to know,” Jason said. “You're not doing this because you think you have to, or because you're scared, or because—”

 

“I love you,” Dick said, serious, cutting Jason off and it felt like all the air left his lungs. “I'm not okay,” he whispered, softly and his hands traced Jason's cheekbones. “But I'm in my right mind. You aren't taking advantage of me or my state. I need... this,” he said softly. “I need to remember what it's like—why it's worth being alive.”

 

“Jesus,” Jason said, because Dick doubting that was the most terrifying thing he'd heard.

 

“No,” Dick said softly. “Not like _that_. Just remind me why I'm here.”

 

“Oh god, I can do that,” Jason said, diving back down into a quick kiss before he slipped lower, all the way along Dick's body and felt Dick squirm and murmur encouragements all the way down.

 

“Are you okay with this?” Dick asked, and his voice was strained.

 

“Yeah,” Jason said. “I really am,” and he swallowed the head of Dick's cock to prove his point, listening to Dick try and muffle his shout with his hands. Even with the rain outside and the low possibility of anyone being out there, it was dangerous to make too much sound. Jason tried not to groan too obviously at the sudden taste of Dick's cock and the heat of him and how many stupid nights he had imagined this. 

 

“You could warn someone,” Dick gasped and Jason grinned.

 

“I've wanted to do that a very long time,” he said and suddenly his world was turned over, Dick leaning over him again and his grin was still a ghost of his usual one. “What did I just say?” Jason demanded.

 

“Sorry,” Dick said. “That can wait.”

 

“Can it?” Jason asked. “You really don't want me to—” and he broke off with a moan when Dick rolled his hips. His mind stuttered and he arched his back, meeting Dick on the next roll and he tried to focus on the way Dick tossed his head, hands bracing on Jason's shoulders.

 

“I want this more,” Dick said and Jason wanted something to bury his face in, except there was nothing but stone, and nothing about this should have been enough to take his breath away because it was cold and hard stone beneath him, and Dick warm and alive above him, covered in bruises and his mouth working silently as he ground down against Jason. “I want to watch you too,” Dick said, finally opening his eyes again.

 

“Yes,” Jason agreed because everything felt too close.

 

Dick smiled again, leaning down in one long impossible arch to kiss Jason, smearing their open mouths together as he reached one hand past Jason's head back to the bags from the bike. He fumbled before dropping a jar of grease Jason used on the bike squarely on Jason's chest and grinning at him.

 

“What?” Jason blinked and then tilted his head back. “You aren't serious?”

 

“Yeah,” Dick said, and shifted, making Jason's eyes roll back.

 

“We're in the middle of nowhere in a cave and you want to—” Jason broke off again, whimpering when Dick ran light fingers down Jason's sides. Jason almost rolled him back over to press him against the ground, to cover him completely and hold on.

 

But this was the second time Dick had shifted them so he could straddle Jason and Jason figured it was what he most wanted. “You're gonna kill me,” he said, yanking Dick down to kiss him, losing himself for a moment in the taste of Dick's mouth, in the heat of his breaths.

 

Dick tensed and Jason wanted to pull his words back.

 

“I hope not,” Dick said softly, and Jason kissed him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some almost 90,000 words later and they are... still making horrible choices and everyone's timing sucks. 
> 
> Carry on.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no foreshadowing in this chapter. None at all. In either scene. 
> 
> (Migraine! \o/ You know what body I hate you too)

“Joker,” Cobblepot called down the empty street. “I don't have the time for this!”

 

There was no answer and he scowled. “This was the time and place, wasn't it?” he demanded.

 

“Yeah,” Waylon Jones said, arms folded over his large chest. “He was making all sorts of noise.”

 

“He always makes all sorts of noise,” Cobblepot snorted. 

 

“Yes, but he also just escaped from Bruce Wayne,” Waylon said.

 

“Assuming the rumors of that incident are actually true—I don't mean what happened that night itself,” Cobblepot instantly cut him off as Waylon opened his mouth. “I mean afterwards. What happened when he was dragged away.”

 

Waylon shook his head, deep hood hiding his strange skin. “Well, perhaps we'll find out.”

 

“If he ever shows,” Cobblepot muttered, stamping his short legs and blowing on his hands. 

 

“Sorry, sugars, it takes longer to get around the city now,” the Joker said and they both turned as the voice came from behind them.

 

“Well, it looks like at least some of the rumors are true,” Waylon said after he and Cobblepot got a good look at the cobbled together wheelchair the Joker was pushing himself in, Harley and Pamela standing behind him. As ever, Pamela looked a little doubtful about being there, but determined every time her eyes slid over to Harley. 

 

“Did you ever doubt Brucie's word?” the Joker asked and for once there was no hint of a giggle in his voice at the mention of Bruce Wayne. But the gleam in his eyes hadn't changed.

 

“You'll have to excuse me if I doubt everything that man has ever said,” Cobblepot said, adjusting the ridiculous cane he carried around everywhere with him and not letting his eyes settle on the Joker. 

 

“Not when it comes to violence,” Waylon said. “Then he can usually be counted on.”

 

Cobblepot hummed, shifting again. “So why were we called here?”

 

“Do you want to kill him or not?” Harley asked, bouncing on her toes.

 

“I'd hate to remind you that he only recently survived a siege on his own headquarters and killed Harvey Dent in the meantime,” Cobblepot said.

 

“ _ He _ didn't kill him,” Pamela said. “He is still weak.” 

 

“And you think that I would willingly work with you?” Cobblepot asked, but he had the wisdom to take half a step back, almost hiding himself in Waylon's shadow. For the moment, Waylon chose to allow that.

 

“To take down Wayne?” the Joker asked and there was the giggle in his voice, pitched higher and downright angrier then usual. “We should have years ago.”

 

“And yet we did not,” Cobblepot said. “Did you ever think as to why that was the case?”

 

“Because you're a coward,” the Joker said, voice lilting high like children sang nursery rhymes. “If you won't, I'll find others who will. Jones?”

 

“I'll think about it,” Waylon said, arms folded over his chest. 

 

“There are others besides you two,” the Joker snarled, and he was clumsy as he turned the wheelchair around, clearly still trying to figure out how to make it work on Gotham's uneven terrain. Waylon almost wanted to ask what it was like getting his own returned to him, but kept his mouth closed. 

 

When they were gone he looked at Cobblepot again. 

 

“We used to run this town,” Cobblepot said, twirling his cane and smacking it down on one of his hands. “But it's been a long time.”

 

“If he does somehow win,” Waylon said. “He'll go after everyone that didn't help him.”

 

They stood for a while more. 

 

“That man took everything from us,” Cobblepot said finally.

 

“From those of us that had anything to be taken from,” Waylon shot back and turned the opposite direction the Joker had gone in, leaving Cobblepot alone, both hands braced on his cane.

 

-0-

 

Dick woke up, tensing all over as he tried to take stock of where he was. He ached, which by itself was not new but—

 

There were bruises, faint marks of Jason's fingertips on his hips and the shape of his teeth. He felt wrung out but most importantly alone. 

 

He was alone.

 

Slowly, still moving on instinct, he gathered his clothes back with shaking hands, rolled the bedding up and shuffled the other supplies back together. Some of them had been strewn other farther then others the night before and he remembered throwing his head back, caught between a laugh and a grown when Jason had reached around him, trying to find a protein bar to shove down Dick's throat and Dick kissing him instead, boxed down underneath him and covered completely and for once that felt  _ safe _ instead of  _ mind boggling terrifying _ . 

 

Jason would not have left him—not alone, not out here, not now.

 

Except Jason would panic sometimes, and he might—

 

Sucking in a shaky breath, Dick shoved the vines back and stepped out into the weak sunlight, tilting his head back to the clear sky. At least the rain had passed, though everything around looked pockmarked and gritty. Even though the light was weak it took his eyes a moment to adjust.

 

No Jason.

 

Another breath, not as deep, and he turned around, hiking further up the side of the hill until he got a clearer look around the whole landscape. And there, opposite the cave mouth was a huddled figure. For a moment Dick just stood there, before returning to the cave and wheeling the bike out and around the side of the hill. He parked it at the bottom, and looked up to see Jason watching him.

 

Slowly, making sure the bike would still be in sight he walked up to where Jason was. “I could have panicked,” he said, stopping in front of Jason. “Like you did. Not bothered to look and gone the other way.”

 

“Yes,” Jason allowed and Dick sank down on to his knees, shuffling so he could wrap his arms around Jason's waist and bury his face in his back. It was a position they had been in countless times since he had been taken from Gotham but every touch felt different now and not just because they weren't on a moving bike. 

 

“That was unforgivably stupid,” Dick said.

 

“Yes,” Jason said again, faint as a whisper. 

 

Dick pressed his cheek to Jason's shoulder blade. “I thought you had gone.”

 

Still tense all over, Jason brought his hand up to rest on Dick's arms. He turned his head slightly. “Maybe that would have been better.”

 

“To be alone out here? Beyond  _ us _ the thought is stupid,” Dick replied. 

 

Jason's shoulders sagged. “We're not a good idea,” he said.

 

“Aren't you way too late for that?” Dick asked, curious. 

 

“Shit,” Jason said and just from the tilt of his head Dick could tell he had squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, Dick. I don't deserve you.”

 

Dick tensed and had to purposefully think of unlocking each frozen muscle, relaxing in increments. “Bullshit.”

 

“Dick I'm serious—” 

 

“So am I and you're full of shit,” Dick snapped, squeezing Jason again. “If I could see your face I would punch you.”

 

Jason started struggling and Dick let him go enough for Jason to turn around, glaring at Dick on his knees. At least since Dick was sitting on slightly higher ground their eyes were level. “I've never deserved you. You're—fuck, Dick, you're everything. You're somehow still kind, and you love, and you could have—” 

 

“I don't care, Jason, about your,” and Dick bit off what he wanted most to say. “I'm not an idol, Jason. I don't care if you told yourself as a kid you don't deserve me and again as an adult I don't care. Hell, even if you somehow didn't deserve me I don't care because I  _ want _ you.” He grabbed the back of Jason's head and tugged him forward. “I want you, I love you,” he said, searching Jason's eyes. “That's what matters.” 

 

“What if it's not?” Jason asked, soft and for a second, for the first time in years, Dick could see the little kid he had first met, who was a mix of scared and eager to please and cocky all at once. 

 

“It is,” Dick said. “Please, Jason.”

 

“You want me to stay in Gotham with you,” Jason said and Dick felt his blood turn to ice because Jason had almost ran away. His first instinct was still to run. 

 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “My,  _ our  _ family needs us.”

 

Jason stared at him.

 

“They do,” Dick insisted. “They miss you.”

 

“They'll always need you more,” Jason said. 

 

“More does not mean they don't actually need you too,” Dick shot back and he was finally starting to understand why Jason shied away from them, the deep seated levels of fear he refused to show anyone else about his own worth. He pressed their foreheads together, feeling Jason's fast breaths on his mouth. “I need you. I have since I met you. If you had waited I don't even know what I would have said when you asked me to leave with you.”

 

“I wasn't being serious,” Jason whispered. “I knew you wouldn't—” 

 

“Tim and Damian were living in fear that I would run away with you if you asked,” Dick said and this time Jason froze, eyes huge and wide and Dick was going cross eyed trying to focus on him with their faces this close together. “Because they thought if you asked again, I would. They were convinced they would lose me to you.”

 

“And would they?” Jason asked, faint. 

 

“Possibly,” Dick said. “My loyalty has always been—” and he was smiling faintly. “Extreme. To Bruce, to Gotham, to my family. But you're part of that. As long as you're gone I'm always going to be torn apart.”

 

And that seemed to break something in Jason and he surged forward, practically knocking Dick backward into the hillside with the force of his kiss. Groaning, Dick wrapped his arms around his neck and too soon they were both pulling away. 

 

“Do you believe me?” Dick asked when Jason looked down at him.

 

“I'm working on it,” he admitted.

 


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endgame endgame endgame! 
> 
> I mean, we're getting closer to the endgame. 
> 
> It felt like we would never get here.

“We're almost there,” Jason said and Dick tried not to let out a relieved breath. “Tomorrow morning probably.”

 

“Which means we still shouldn't go through the night?” Dick asked and Jason paused.

 

“We might be able to risk it this close to town,” he said. “I know this area pretty well and I could drive.”

 

Dick nodded and Jason wanted to wrap his arms around him and never let go, wanted to hold him and keep him away from Gotham as much as he wanted to make Dick happy and return him home. “Thins are going to change,” Dick said and for a second Jason didn't process he had actually said it.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Gotham has a pretty strong effect on people after all.”

 

Dick turned around from where he was at the front of the bike. “But I'm still going to love you,” he said and Jason's fingers tightened.

 

“I know.”

 

The corners of Dick's mouth twitched, like he was almost amused. “Yeah?” he asked, almost teasing and Jason noticed the glint of metal first, grabbing Dick's waist and throwing them both from the bike when the knife went soaring past them.

 

“Fuck” Dick said from the ground, and Jason was up and peering over the bike. There was nothing except the trees around them, and silence. “Over there,” Dick said, pointing and Jason was turning in time for Victor Zsasz to come barreling out from the trees. 

 

It was one man versus the two of them, but he didn't care if his knives hit either of them or himself, while they were trying to avoid harming each other. From the moment Zsasz threw Dick to the ground and tripped Jason they were on the ground, none of them able to gain their feet again as they fought.

 

“Have you been out here all this time?” Dick asked, and Zsasz just smirked at him, driving the point of his knife into Dick's hand. 

 

“Knew you would come back at some point,” he said as Dick screamed and kicked out at him, at the same time Jason got behind Zsasz and yanked him back and off Dick. “And then I would have you,” he said, elbowing Jason and catching him by chance where he had been stabbed earlier. 

 

With a gasp, Jason let him go and Dick used where he was on his back to kick up as Zsasz's stomach, sending him back into Jason.

 

“I was able to claim others while waiting,” Zsasz, as if unconcerned with Jason behind him. “Wandered the desert but I've been waiting to add you to my list for such a long time,” and Dick could see the lines that had recently scabbed over from where he had inflicted the dash marks all over his body himself.

 

“Not today,” Dick said, rolling and finally getting his feet under him as Jason and Zsasz grappled. 

 

“Are you sure you even want to go back?” Zsasz asked. “The other night all of Gotham went black. I wonder what's been happening.”

 

Dick froze, a moment too long as Zsasz kicked his head. “It's home,” Jason said, and he scrabbled backward, closer to the bike, getting one of his pistols from where he hid it under the bags. “And we're going home,” he added, Dick ducking his head when he fired. 

 

He looked back up when Jason approached, yanking him up by his arm. “It's funny,” Dick said, carefully not looking over. “To think of anyone from Gotham dead. They've all been, for so long—” 

 

“He might have been lying about the lights,” Jason said. 

 

“Maybe,” Dick said and he glanced at the body, quickly to confirm Zsasz was honestly dead and wouldn't be coming after them again. “He killed so many people...” 

 

“Dick,” Jason said when Dick wasn't moving. 

 

Shaking his head, Dick focused back on him. “Ride through the night, you said?” he asked quietly and Jason nodded. 

 

“Yeah, I'll drive.” 

 

Dick followed him, wiping his hands almost compulsively on his pants.

 

-0-

 

“Have you been noticing how quiet it has been?” Damian asked, crouched on the roof with Tim. The sun had not set yet, and they had their backs pressed against the side of the wall, huddled together. 

 

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But it's usually quiet after a big event. I mean, after Dick went missing,” and he stopped because Damian tensed again. “But you're not going to go looking for trouble, are you?”

 

“And if I was?” Damian asked, turning his head and he grinned at Tim with all his teeth.

 

“You,” Tim blinked, eyes widening. “You're doing that on  _ purpose _ .”

 

“What?” Damian asked, still smirking.

 

“You're goading me by pretending to be even more reckless,” Tim said and wanted to hit his head for not noticing it. “You're actually manipulating me into kissing you—” And as if to prove his point, Damian swooped down, tilting Tim's chin up with his fingers and covering his mouth with his own. 

 

Arching into the touch, Tim let out a laugh against Damian's mouth. “You son of a bitch.”

 

“You manipulated me first,” Damian pointed out. “Very skillfully to be true, but nonetheless I did not start this.”

 

“You little,” Tim started and wrapped his arms around Damian's neck instead, yanking him closer. “ _ Don't _ get yourself injured just because you're trying to tick me off into kissing you.”

 

“Well, I suppose now all I have to do is imply I am going to be reckless and I get the same result,” Damian said, nuzzling the side of Tim's face and Tim turned his cheek so he could have better access. 

 

“Damian,” he breathed and Damian shuddered against him. 

 

“Though I suppose I really will have to injure myself to lure you into my bed,” Damian said and Tim drew back.

 

“I,” he started. “Have technically been in your bed and don't joke about that.”

 

“You know what I meant,” Damian said and they stared at each other as Tim's face slowly flushed. “I mean to actually have you Drake, not simply this aborted touching we've been doing.”

 

And Tim was leaning back toward him, eyes flickering between his mouth and eyes when there was a sound from the stairwell. “What the hell is going on?” Bruce asked, hands braced on either side of the doorway and his expression thunderous.

 

Tim and Damian jerked back from each other, eyes wide. 

 

“F-father,” Damian said and Tim couldn't remember hearing him stutter over a word before.

 

“Bruce,” he said, attempting and failing as badly as Damian to explain. 

 

“No,” Bruce swiped his hand through the air. “The kissing—I understand that.”

 

“Then what is your question?” Damian asked, voice strained. 

 

Bruce's eyes darted between them in some annoyance. “I have ears,” he said. “You were rather unaware of your surroundings.” His gaze landed on Tim and Tim started to shrink back. “What you were talking about before.”

 

“We weren't being serious,” Damian started. 

 

“Yes you were,” Bruce said. 

 

“It's not,” Tim said. “It's not as bad as it sounds.”

 

Bruce looked between the two of them. “What the hell are you thinking?” he thundered, because they had failed to give him a real explanation. “To compromise yourselves is one thing, to actively use each other, as reward, as bait, as goddamn collateral is not acceptable.”

 

“This is not a matter in which you have a say!” Damian protested. 

 

“I am your father,” Bruce said. “Your leader and commanding officer. If my ranks are falling apart I need to know about it.”

 

“We aren't falling apart,” Tim said and before Bruce could say anything else Cassandra appeared at the top of the stairs. 

 

“Bruce,” she said, voice strained. “There, there is someone to see you.”

 

“What?” Bruce turned and considered her before narrowing his eyes at Tim and Damian again. “This conversation has been finished,” he said, turning and sweeping down the stairs.

 

“Shit,” Tim said but Damian was already on his feet, expression wiped clear as he followed his father. Taking only a second longer to pull himself together, Tim followed. 

 

On the ground floor, standing in the doorway was none other then Oswald Cobblepot.

 

“If you were going to go through with your threats,” he said, one side of his mouth chomped down on an empty cigarette holder. One time he had still been able to get a supply of subpar tobacco but now he was simply used to talking around it, even though it had been empty. “You should have gone all the way through with them. Killing a thorn in your side isn't that much morally worse then breaking his spine and locking him up, Wayne.”

 

“Cobblepot,” Bruce said, stopping several steps from the bottom so he still more or less towered over the squat man. Damian and Tim and Cassandra all came to a stop over his shoulder. “Do you have anything useful to say?”

 

“The Joker is gathering allies,” Cobblepot said. “Considering I find his brand of madman as distasteful as your rigid hypocrisy, I find myself up a creek with no paddle.”

 

“Is that an offer for help?” Bruce asked, cocking his head to one side.

 

Cobblepot snorted. “God forbid that is what I actually mean.” He looked at the those gathered on the stairs. “The first question of course, is if your own house is in order?”

 

“Yes,” Bruce said. “It is.”

 

Cobblepot looked far from convinced. “Of course,” he said. “But you see, if somehow I did decide to, say, play the path of least resistance and help you, I would require it to be worth it.”

 

“As would we,” Bruce said. “Who exactly is involved so far?”

 

“Waylon is not impressed, but Harley and Pamela are following the Joker,” Cobblepot said. “And dear Harvey is out of the running now,” and Bruce stiffened, shoulders held tightly. “But I suppose you already knew that. The others are undecided.”

 

“So what you would do,” Bruce said. “Would be to convince those on the fence? To what, help us or at just stay out of the way.”

 

“At least stay out of the way,” Cobblepot corrected. “You would be lucky to get that.”

 

“Then why offer at all?” Damian snapped, suddenly unable to be quiet behind Bruce anymore.

  
“Because, child,” Cobblepot sneered. “You were never in Gotham when the Joker actually helped run it.”

 


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Various Storms and Saints" by Florence and the Machine is your song for any time the batfam has too many feelings about Gotham. (Or your author for that matter)

“Well, the fires are lit,” Jason said, bringing the bike to a stop on the last hill approaching Gotham. “It looks the same.”

 

“Do you,” Dick started behind him and stopped. “Do you ever get used to seeing her?” When Jason didn't answer he swallowed hard. “Does it get easier?”

 

“No,” Jason said. “No each time it's still, like, like you're being stabbed and held at the same time.” He took a breath. “There's no other city out there like Gotham.”

 

Behind him, Dick opened his mouth and closed it. He wanted to ask Jason if he was really staying, he wanted to beg him to go faster and he wanted to run away because it felt like they had been running an awfully long time and maybe it was better to continue. 

 

“You ready?” Jason asked. 

 

“Yes,” Dick lied.

 

-0-

 

“I still don't trust Cobblepot,” Damian said, and he was pressed flat on his stomach on the roof, using a pair of binoculars with cracked lenses to survey the Joker's old territory. 

 

“I'm not sure trusting him is the point,” Tim said from beside him. Bruce had given them a particularly pointed look when he sent them out together that promised more words if they somehow messed up for being together. Tim was honestly trying not to think about any of it. 

 

“Then what is the point?” Damian asked. 

 

“That we're desperate and out of luck,” Tim said and frowned. “I'm going to check that roof out over there.”

 

“What?” Damian frowned at him. “We're supposed to stay together, Drake—” 

 

“I promise to check in,” Tim said, sliding away and he heard Damian's “Tt,” behind him even though the other boy did not follow. He considered tapping out an apology on their ear pieces but shook his head. That would get a sneer from Damian and an accusation of being sentimental. 

 

Reaching the bottom of the building, he slunk through the shadows to reach the fire escape of the other one, and was halfway through the climb when there was a click in his ear. 

 

He reached the top of the roof by the time the whole message from Barbara had come through.  _ Someone's entering the city _ .

 

-0-

 

“Nice night,” Jason remarked, and he pulled the bike down an alleyway. “Usually I stow this near the outskirts, but all things considered—” 

 

“The city hall,” Dick said, and his head was darting around, scanning the rooftops and alleys they were passing. 

 

“I figured,” Jason said, and he tried to force his hands to relax their painfully tight grip on the bike's handles. “It's quiet,” he added after they turned down another street. He still remembered the maps of Gotham that Bruce had made him study until his eyes crossed and figured they were halfway to the center of the city. 

 

They passed a bonfire off to their right, making everything too bright for a second. 

 

“Something has either happened or is going to,” Dick said, and Jason opened his mouth to reply when the front tire of the bike blew out, sending them skidding down the pavement. 

 

Clambering to his feet, Jason crouched behind the bike, his out and in his hands as he looked up and down the street. “This is why I don't take the bike in here,” he muttered, because there had been spikes strewn across the alley, the darkness hiding them.

 

“Is it an old trap?” Dick asked, his back pressed against the bike. 

 

“No,” a voice said from above. “And it is always baited to see who might come in to it.” 

 

“Johnathan,” Dick sighed, looking up. “And Edward.” 

 

“Do you hear how he talks about us?” Edward Nygma demanded. “As if we're just—” and he squinted down. “Haven't you been missing?”

 

“Yes,” Dick said warily. “I mean, I knew where I was, it just wasn't here.”

 

“I have always appreciated you have a sense of humor,” Edward said, putting his hand over his chest. “Not enough to say, put up with you, but at least you know how to smile.”

 

“We're wasting time,” Jason snapped. “This trick is designed for tourists.”

 

“Oh, is that the wayward boy?” Edward asked, Johnathan Crane crouching down on the roof to get a better look at him. “Two birds coming home at once! And what  _ timing _ you have!”

 

“What does that mean?” Dick asked. 

 

“Dick, we need to go,” Jason said, starting to pull him away. He grabbed the bag from his bike, slinging it over his shoulder and keeping one of his guns up and trained on the figures on the roof. 

 

“Haven't you heard?” Johnathan asked, his voice lower and raspier then Edward's. “The Joker's declared war on Wayne.”

 

“The Joker's always declared war on him,” Jason snarled, dragging Dick with him.

 

“Sure, but that's before his little girl killed Harvey Dent,” Edward said and Jason and Dick both froze. “And before your dear papa broke his damned spine.” 

 

“He,” Jason started and Edward was bending over, laughing. 

 

“Oh, god, it's too precious,” he chortled. 

 

“We're going now,” Jason said. “I dare you to try and stop us.  _ Or _ strip my bike.”

 

Edward waved after them. “Say hi to papa! Send him our regards and let him know he's fucked!”

 

“Shut up,” Dick snapped and they were around the next corner. As soon as they were away from their gaze, he broke into a run, Jason following. 

 

“Dick, stop,” he said, grabbing his arm and yanking him back. “Just hold on—” 

 

“There's nothing to hold on for,” Dick said. “We're getting to the city hall  _ now _ .” 

 

“Maybe you should calm—”

 

“I am far calmer then you're giving me credit for,” Dick said and Jason blinked because that looked surprisingly true. “But we need to figure out what's going on.” 

 

“It,” Jason started and there was the sound of approaching feet coming down the alleyway on their right. “Okay,” he said. “Run.”

 

Dick took off in front of him and Jason only took the time to readjust his pack before he followed. 

 

For a moment it felt like before, when he had been training and had run all over Gotham with Dick. Sometimes they maneuvered over the rooftops and sometimes it had been just like this, his trying to catch up with Dick through all of Gotham's corkscrew turns and side streets. 

 

Behind them, he thought he heard someone yelling, some voice calling out “It's Grayson! Fucker's alive!” All of Gotham's worst seemed to be out on the streets because he thought that voice belonged to Waylon Jones. 

 

“I think someone is following us!” he yelled and Dick nodded, jumping up onto a low level fire escape and hauling himself up, Jason following more clumsily. On the roof Dick took a second to orient himself, starting to turn when Jason reached his side and realized someone else had taken the roof opposite them. “Can you see who—” Jason started to ask except Dick was already moving, swinging himself from the roof they were on which was slightly higher to the other roof as the figure across the way turned at the sound of his approach. 

 

And it had been too long since Jason took the time to stare at Bruce. 

 

He hadn't recognized him from behind at all but Dick had, moving before Bruce or Jason knew what was happening. 

 

Bruce was halfway into a fighting stance when his eyes widened and he seemed to recognize the form barreling toward him. He held his arms out just in time for Dick to collide with him, grabbing him and dragging him hard against his chest.

 

Across the way still, Jason stopped at the edge of the roof and just watched as Dick wound his arms around Bruce, smashing his face against his collarbone. “Bruce,” he whispered, and he wasn't crying but Jason could see his whole body was shaking. 

 

One of Bruce's hands came up to cradle the back of Dick's head and he looked like a drowning man who had unexpectedly been thrown a life line. “ _ Dick _ ,” he said like that one word held all the secrets of the universe. 

 

Jason wanted to wonder if he had thrown himself at Bruce if he would have gotten this sort of reaction, even though it was far too late for such thoughts. 

 

“God, Bruce,” and Dick was laughing, hysterical and desperate and he was still just clinging. “I've—”

 

“I've missed you,” Bruce cut in and usually he sounded like he was chewing on glass to admit anything like that, but he only sounded desperate and relieved and Dick shook again. 

 

He finally raised his head, meeting Bruce's eyes and he laughed again, hands coming up to frame Bruce's face. “Hey,” he said and Bruce even cracked a smile. 

 

“Hey,” he whispered back and it sounded like he was breaking. 

 

Jason turn and ran. 

 

He barely saw Dick turning back toward him, and Bruce's eyes finally lifting toward him but that didn't matter. He was going to get his bike—or find another one—and get out of Gotham while he still could.

 

-0-

 

_ Have there been reports on who _ ? Damian tapped into his earpiece, having gone to the border where Barbara said someone came into the city.

 

_ Not yet _ . 

 

Damian huffed, checking his route back into the city again as he tried to retrace where they might have gone and why. There were no checkpoints in Gotham, but with everything the way it was, making sure they knew who was in the city and at play was important. 

 

He climbed up onto the nearest roof, using his binoculars to see if there was movement anywhere. With no luck, he hopped over to the next rooftop and checked again, frowning when there was again no luck.

 

He almost tried to contact Barbara again when a running figure caught his attention because that looked a lot like Jason—

 

Eyes widening, his head darted up when he realized there was another figure, chasing not far behind him. “Jason!” the figure yelled, nearly tripping and there was just the flash of his face when he caught himself that Damian couldn't breath. 

 

He was off and running too, because his shock had stalled him a moment too long. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally that was one of the most intense hugs I think I've ever written


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGS. MORE HUGS. HUGS ALL CHAPTER.
> 
> (That is not an author's note anyone expected from this story huh?)

_Dick's in Gotham_ was sent out to all the ear pieces, with no code prefacing who was sending the message or anything else afterward, even as the line exploded with tapped demands for more information.

 

-0-

 

Dick caught Jason when he skidded around a corner and almost fell. Throwing himself at Jason's waist, he knocked him down to the uneven ground, landing on his legs and scrambling to straddle his waist and pin him before he caught his breath back.

 

“Let me go!” Jason yelled, trying to shove him back.

 

“No,” Dick replied, tightening his grip.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dick!” Jason yelled. “You don't understand—”

 

“You're right, I don't,” Dick said. “I have no idea what's going through that head of yours. But you can't just leave, no like this.”

 

“Why the fuck not?” Jason demanded and a form dropped down beside them, though Dick did not dare turn his head yet.

 

“Because I love you,” Dick said and Jason stilled, his struggles stopping for a moment. “Because we need to at least _talk_ about it. Because Luthor might still be following us and as much as I need you Gotham needs us.”

 

“I hate this city,” Jason snarled. 

 

“Sorry,” Dick said, pulling on his arm too hard and making him gasp. “You have told me way too much for me to believe that anymore.”

 

“This is why I didn't tell anyone anything,” Jason said.

 

“Too bad,” Dick said, and his tone was mild as much as his posture was not. “I'm going to let you up now.”

 

“And if I run again?”

 

Dick paused for a moment too long. “Then I guess this time I'll have to let you go,” he said softly. 

 

Jason was silent, before he tilted his head back. “Okay,” he said. 

 

“What are you agreeing to?” Dick asked, even as he moved back, crouching nearby but no longer pinning Jason.

 

“You're right,” Jason said, pushing himself back to his knees and turning to Dick. “If Luthor is coming, if shit has really hit the fan—” he sucked in a breath and let it out before continuing. “Then Gotham needs all of us. For this city. For you. I'll at least stay the next few days.”

 

“Then we'll talk?” Dick asked. “Before you actually leave?”

 

“I can't promise that,” Jason said. “But I'll try.” 

 

“That's what I'm asking for,” Dick said, even though his shoulders sagged and he looked exhausted. 

 

Jason finally seemed to focus on the shadows being Dick, his eyes widening enough for Dick to turn to see Damian behind them, watching them with wide eyes. “Dami,” he managed past the lump in his throat and Damian stalked forward now that they had noticed them.

 

He went right past Dick at first, stopping in front of Jason, who rose to his feet to be on better footing. “Todd.”

 

“Damian,” Jason greeted and Dick was still on his knees, staring at them with huge eyes. 

 

Damian's face twisted before he thrust his hand out against Jason's chest and it took Jason a second too long to figure out he was offering his hand. Jason awkwardly took it and Damian gripped his hand painfully hard. “Thank you for bringing him back,” Damian said. “We may not always agree—or ever—but thank you.” 

 

“Yeah?” Jason managed. “Didn't do it for you, but you're welcome.”

 

“Just accept my regard,” Damian snapped, dropping Jason's hand, and with that duty out of the way, he seemed finally ready to rush to Dick, falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around him.

 

“Dami,” Dick breathed, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of Damian's head, the other going around his back as Damian pressed against him. “Dami, it's so good to see you.”

 

“Grayson,” Damian breathed as if it hurt him to say. “ _Richard_. I missed you.”

 

“I missed you so much,” Dick whispered, and Damian clung tighter. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

 

“You're not wearing a collar,” Damian said, as if he finally noticed that because he was pressed so close. 

 

“What?” Dick asked. 

 

Damian sniffed, the closest he would come to admit how close to tears he came before he finally leaned back. “There were photos, not quite a week ago. Father said they came from Metropolis,” and he reached into his jacket, fishing in an inner pocket before pulling out the small photo, wrinkled now and faded but still clearly showing Dick pressed against Jason with the gold collar heavy around his throat. 

 

“Oh,” Dick breathed. 

 

“I thought Todd was taking you away from us,” Damian said and behind them, Jason opened his mouth before closing it angrily again. 

 

“Oh, Dami, it wasn't like that,” Dick said. “He didn't put that on me, it wasn't—he didn't keep me from coming back at any point. It was,” and his eyes flickered to Jason with a wry smile, including him on the joke. “Literally everything else in the world. But I'm back now and I'm so glad to see you,” and he dragged Damian into another hug.

 

For once Damian didn't protest at all. 

 

Finally he drew back, tapping a quick message into the ear piece. “Everyone else wants to see you too,” he said, surly and low and Dick wanted to laugh until he cried.

 

“I want to see them too,” he whispered.

 

-0-

 

Tim was the first one out of the City Hall and throwing himself against Dick. “You're here,” he said and Dick dropped the bag he had taken from Jason on the walk to drag Tim against his chest. 

 

“Hello,” he said, and looked up to see Bruce had come back to the City Hall to meet them. He looked at Dick for a moment and nodded slightly, as if acknowledging everyone else had a right to him too. 

 

“We missed you,” Tim said into Dick's shoulder at the same time Barbara approached him. 

 

“Hey, firebrand,” Dick said and Tim stepped back enough that Dick could drop to his knees and throw his arms around Barbara. 

 

“What have I said about the nicknames?” she asked, tilting her head into his hair and holding on.

 

“To knock it off, but desperate times and measures and all that,” Dick returned and he felt her laugh rumble against him.

 

When he leaned back, he saw Bruce standing a few feet away from Jason, looking at him warily, as if he was expecting Jason to attack him again, much as he had every other time they met recently. “You can knock that off,” Jason snapped. 

 

“You don't usually come back of your own will,” Bruce said. “Not here. Not to us—me.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, scuffing his foot on the ground and glaring. “Gonna kick me out?”

 

“Why,” Bruce's face twisted in the glow from the fires. “Why would I kick you out?”

 

“I've tried to kill you, I've killed plenty of other people, and I know how much that pisses—” Except Jason cut off abruptly when Bruce moved toward him, half into a defensive crouch by the time Bruce dragged him into a bone crushing embrace.

 

“What is,” Jason started struggling and Bruce held on until a few seconds later the fight went out of Jason. “What the hell is this?” Jason asked weakly and Dick stopped breathing, too afraid that anything might break the moment.

 

“What does it seem like?” Bruce asked.

 

“Like you're hugging me.”

 

“Very astute, I knew I trained you well,” Bruce muttered and Jason laughed until he stopped abruptly. 

 

“Bruce,” he said, his hands started to come up, hanging behind Bruce's back before he dropped them without returning the embrace. “You can't fix this with a _hug_.”

 

“Is it the first step?” Bruce asked, finally stepping back and holding Jason's shoulders. 

 

“It,” Jason snarled, still wanting to be angry before his whole frame deflated. “Maybe,” he said, not looking at Bruce. 

 

“I know the wrongs I've done by you,” Bruce said softly. “By _everyone_ here. I only want the chance to make things better. I want my family back.”

 

“We aren't,” Jason started and stopped. “Look, I'm here for Dick right now. I'm here because he asked me to be here. Forgiving you is _not_ on my agenda. And, and, _if_ it ever comes it's on my terms.” He paused, something seeming to break in his face. “So why are you acting like you forgive me?”

 

Bruce stared at him and Dick drifted closer while trying to pretend that wasn't what he was doing. “What makes you think I didn't ages ago?” he asked, Cassandra standing in the doorway to the City Hall, supporting Steph. 

 

“Dick!” she called, still bandaged and needing support. “Jason!” 

 

Jason still looked like Bruce had socked him in the face but Dick turned with a smile, flying up the steps to wrap both the girls into another hug.

 

“Have you hugged everyone now?” Cassandra asked seriously, using her free hand to pat Dick's back, while Steph transferred all her weight to Dick, hanging off his neck. 

 

“I'm getting closer all the time,” Dick said. 

 

“At this rate you might have to start hugging the scoundrels,” Cassandra said, and Dick laughed until he remembered what they had heard from Edward and Johathon. He slowly let Steph back down, Cassandra gladly taking her weight back, before he turned back around.

 

“I'm happy to see all of you,” he said, Damian appearing at his side again like he had no intention of leaving it for the foreseeable future. “But we might have brought some problems back.”

 

Tim's face twisted and Bruce tensed. “Things have happened here too,” Tim said, hesitant and his eyes darted to Bruce before focusing on Dick again. 

 

“Then we have a lot to catch up on,” Jason said, storming past Cassandra and Steph and inside the City Hall, his bag slung over his shoulder again.

 

Dick paused, glancing between Tim and Bruce before he put his arm around Damian and walked inside after him. 

 


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd there goes the hugs

“Before anything else,” Bruce said, safely hidden behind his desk with his hands folded in front of him, his knuckle's white. “I feel like we should discuss something that has recently come to light. It would not do for me to hide from you what the others know.”

 

“What, some secret?” Jason asked, arms folded over his chest and his eyes darting around, like he wanted to run again. “I think what's happening right now is way more important then something that happened years ago.”

 

Dick looked up from where he had bent down to speak quietly to Damain. “We really should start—”

 

“No,” Bruce cut them both off. “This needs to be said now.” 

 

“Alright, Bruce,” Dick said, brows furrowed but accepting Bruce's demand.

 

Except that once he had their attention, Bruce faltered for a moment. “Seriously,” Jason said after a beat. “What is it?”

 

“In the past,” Bruce said. “It has been,” and he stopped, closing his eyes for a moment and opening them again. “It has never been said before how I came to power in Gotham among you. To you. When I was a child my parents were murdered by the warlords.”

 

“Yeah, Bruce, we know that bit,” Jason said, looking at him a little hesitantly like he was wondering what part of his mind Bruce had lost.

 

“I was taken in by the warlords,” Bruce snapped, his annoyance at Jason propelling his confession. “I gained control of the city by killing the last one publicly. Which does not wipe away the years prior when I did their bidding and dirty work.”

 

“What?” Jason asked and Dick hadn't moved. Damian frowned at him, his hand hovering near Dick's arm before he allowed it to drop. “What the hell do you mean?” Jason shook his head and Dick still hadn't moved. “What the fuck do you mean? You've been preaching one thing, practically telling me I was dead to you for this and and—all along you had as much— _more—_ dirty blood on your hands? If this was the case then why the fuck was the Joker still alive!”

 

“He wasn't the warlord,” Bruce said. 

 

“And even so your own morals couldn't bend enough, despite having been shattered when he might as well have killed me? For all you knew _he did_!”

 

“I could not just break my own code. If I did for personal vengeance then I would have gained nothing!” Bruce thundered. “To give in to my desires—” 

 

“Your desires?” Jason yelled. “Oh that's what they were?”

 

“I know what I'm capable of, Jason!” Bruce roared at him and Jason took a step back. “You do not. Do not judge how much or how little I care by my restraint!” 

 

“He deserved to die,” Jason said, taking another step back. 

 

“Yes,” Bruce agreed, a low angry hiss. “He always has. But so have plenty of others, and those who _deserved_ full and happy lives have not been allowed them.” He sank down heavily back into his seat from where he rose to yell back at Jason. “I cannot allow myself to be judge, jury, and executioner again. Not again.”

 

He sounded so lost and broken at the end that Jason took another step back. 

 

“You still should have told us,” Barbara said softly. 

 

“Yes,” Bruce said, his head heavy on his shoulders. “There is much I should have done.”

 

“Jesus,” Jason said, looking away and finally noticed that Dick still had not moved.

 

“Dick?” Bruce asked, noticing around the same time when he finally looked up. 

 

“What?” Dick asked, seeming to snap out of somewhere far away. 

 

“You haven't—” Bruce started.

 

“I knew already,” Dick said and everyone else in the room turned to him. Bruce, for his part, looked floored. “I—I knew.”

 

“What?” Tim asked and Barbara's whole expression changed. 

 

“Did you really—?” Dick started to ask. “No, I know you really thought I never realized. Bruce, I recognized you. Everyone in Gotham knew who you were in _self defense_.” Bruce looked like he had been struck. “Jesus, that's not—it's just how it was. I knew who you were the instant you found me. And I saw,” he stopped abruptly. 

 

“You weren't supposed to,” Bruce said quietly. 

 

“You really think Alfred, after knowing me less then a month could have kept me locked up if I didn't want to be?” Dick asked.

 

“Neither of you ever said,” Bruce said. 

 

“You didn't want me to know,” Dick said. “I understood that much. You wanted to turn over and be a better person and I was going to do anything to help you. Alfred understood that too. We both—just wanted to help you. It was easier not to tell you.”

 

“And you never told us either,” Tim said.

 

“No,” Dick said, too abruptly. 

 

“We should have known,” Tim said, his anger at Bruce leaking out toward Dick and Jason had his back pressed to the wall with all the steps he had taken back. But he was not yet going for the door. 

 

“Perhaps,” Dick said. “Perhaps not. The fact is we all made choices and that was one of mine.”

 

“We have been following this man blind while—” Tim started. 

 

“Do not, Drake,” Damian said, starting toward him and the look Tim shot him was almost murderous. 

 

“Do not what, little Wayne?” Tim asked, snide and angry. 

 

“He is not just a man he is as much your father as possible and your leader—” 

 

“Just because you can accept his past considering your own—” 

 

“Both of you stop it!” Dick snapped, because Bruce still looked too shocked and saddened to say anything. Tim and Damian instantly subsided and backed away from each other. “Now is not the time,” Dick added, turning back to Bruce. “I was serious that we had news ourselves. Lex Luthor, from all accounts that might be wrong, is coming behind us.”

 

Bruce snapped out of his slump. “Luthor?” he asked. 

 

“We may have pissed him off,” Dick said and Jason, still with his back against the wall broke off a hysterical chuckle. “And we escaped. Your friend, Clark, helped. I think he's also where those photos came from.”

 

Bruce's brow twitched up slightly. “Yes.”

 

“Have you heard of Slade Wilson?” Dick asked.

 

“Rumors and theories,” Bruce said. “When I was last traveling, before,” and he shook his head slightly. “His name came up but I never met him.”

 

“Great,” Dick said, under his breath. “So he has been around that long. He might also be coming after us, I do not know.”

 

“You don't?” Jason asked. 

 

Dick stared at him a moment. “No, what that man wants is still a mystery to me,” he said, eyes narrowed at Jason. “At least what his final goal is.” 

 

“When you say Luthor is coming here—” Barbara pressed. 

 

“We were running,” Dick said. “I do not know what sort of forces he might have, I do not know when he will be here. But I know he's wanted an excuse to wipe you away for a long time,” he said, turning back to Bruce.

 

“Dinah did say he left with a force of his soldiers,” Barbara said and the room turned toward her. 

 

“What?” Dick asked, getting his voice back first.

 

Barbara looked half offended and half amused. “You didn't honestly think Bruce was the only one who had any friends out of town, did you?” 

 

“Honestly I'm not sure we knew much about those friends,” Tim said. 

 

Barbara shrugged. “I have been working on a method on communicating with those outside the city more. It's fairly basic, but Dinah has traveled a lot since the destruction of Star City and we've been working on it together with Helana and Zinda. We've only been able to build the network as far as ourselves. But we have been trying to pass information and eventually more along to each other.”

 

“That,” Dick grinned at her. “That's brilliant.” 

 

Barbara's eyes flickered up to him and a smile teased at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, amused. “Not that I need your validation.”

 

“Never have,” Dick said. 

 

“At any rate,” Barbara cleared her throat. “I can try and get an estimate on how many and when they left. It would have taken some time to put any force together I know that much.”

 

“But what can we do?” Tim asked, eyes going to Bruce. “We're not an army. We cannot hold Gotham itself, let alone fight off any army. Harvey Dent's mob was enough to almost take us down.”

 

Dick looked at Jason, who refused to meet his gaze. “We put Gotham in order,” Dick said.

 

“What?” Damian asked.

 

“Gotham is tearing itself apart,” Dick said. “It has been for years now. We cannot continue like this. We could do so much more, we could actually rebuild, if we fixed Gotham's fissures first.”

 

“Are you suggesting a purge?” Bruce asked, something low and dangerous in his voice.

 

“No,” Dick said. “I'm suggesting working together.”

 

“You want us to work with madmen and murderers?” Damian demanded. “I do not think you understand that situation. The Joker is out for blood and there are plenty willing to support him.”

 

“He's always out for blood,” Dick said.

 

“Not like this,” Cassandra said from where she was hiding in the rafters behind Bruce. 

 

“You cannot seriously be thinking,” Damian started.

 

“Cobblepot did come to us,” Tim broke in. “He warned us, he even implied—”

 

“Not that he would work with us,” Damian said. 

 

“Cobblepot, really?” Dick asked. “Alright. The reality is some of them are mad and would see us dead before ever agreeing to work together for this city. But there are others, who are less mad. Who might listen to us—like Cobblepot, or even Crane and Nygma. Maybe even Jones—”

 

“Jones is a greedy madman,” Damian growled. 

 

“I understand you don't get along but we're talking about an army coming our way,” Dick said. “We're talking about the fact that Gotham has been stuck in darkness and civil war.” Steph startled awake from where she had dozed off pressed against the wall where Cassandra had left her, still recovering from her wounds.

 

Bruce was looking at him again. “And the cities controlled by the warlords, are they so much better? Is that honestly a better system?”

 

“That's not what I said,” Dick said. “But they are different. They have lights and food and some perhaps false measure of safety. I'm not saying that's enough to give ourselves over to a dictatorship build on blood and death for. But the fact remains that perhaps our way has never been effective.”

 

“We cannot make these decisions tonight,” Bruce decided.

 

“We have to make them quickly,” Dick said. 

 

“Be that as it may,” Bruce pushed himself to his feet. “Not tonight.” He paused for a long moment. “You should all sleep. We will talk again after that.”

 

He left the room before anyone beside Cassandra moved. Dick looked at Jason, who refused to meet his eyes before following Bruce. 

 


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned "Thistle & Weeds" by Mumford & Sons for Bruce yet? No? OKAY BUT THAT SONG FOR BRUCE.
> 
> Also, I've been putting some stuff off to work on this story which I really can't put off anymore so I don't know what that's going to do for updates. If it's going to make them go slower or faster I don't know. But I thought I'd give everyone some warning in case they do slow down a bit more. (I mean, we're so close to the end that I'm certainly not abandoning or even really taking a break, just slowing down)

Eyeing Jason across the room Barbara wheeled herself closer when Dick left the room, followed shortly by Damian. Tim lingered without trying to look like he was avoiding Damian.

 

“You look like you seriously are considering running now that he's out of the room,” Barbara remarked, tone mild and Jason glanced down. 

 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said and Tim was now paying attention to them, a tiny frown on his face. 

 

“Yes, you do,” she said, unimpressed. Steph was motioning Tim over, still looking like she should not be out of bed and woozy. “You're here because he demanded it of you, not because you actually want to be.”

 

“Can you blame me with him?” Jason asked and for a second Barbara thought he still meant Dick.

 

“No,” she said. “Bruce is many things. Easy to be around is not one of them.”

 

“The rest of you are still here,” Jason said. “Dick was so desperate to come back every time something else went wrong, he looked like he was gonna sit down on the ground and cry.” Jason paused. “Even though that probably wasn't just for Bruce.”

 

“The rest of us aren't you,” she pointed out. “Dick probably has a better idea of what you went through then the rest of us since he was kidnapped and thrown out of the city, but that's different from being tortured for months, isn't it?”

 

Jason closed his eyes before meeting her's again. “I forgot how brutal you are when you want to be.”

 

She gave a tiny shrug. “You need to know,” she said. “That Bruce broke the Joker's spine. It's more then likely he'll never walk again. That's why he's so out for Bruce's blood at the moment.”

 

Jason froze and she considered him, watching the tiny ticks on his face as he tried to calm back down. “His spine?” he said finally, giving her a significant look.

 

“We've all been hurt by this city,” she said, an edge of anger in her voice. “Mostly by the Joker. You, me, Dick, he stabbed Tim and almost executed Damian. It was all too much,” she tapped her fingers on the wheel of her chair. “You blame Bruce for not taking revenge for you, when the Joker took responsibility for your death.”

 

“Yes,” Jason said. 

 

“The one thing I believe right now is that Bruce means it when he says after his childhood and growing up with the warlords and taking power in a blood bath that he cannot kill again. It's the only thing holding him together. But I think you underestimate how angry he could and can be without resorting to that.”

 

“Sure,” Jason said. “Except he still didn't break the bastard's spine until Dick was taken from him too.”

 

“Technically it was because he stabbed Tim,” Barbara said and Tim was still watching them, even with one arm around Steph's waist and listening to her talk quietly. “But he would never have gotten there without everything building up. He almost lost it when he lost you—just because he didn't fully crack until later doesn't negate what the first incident did to him.”

 

“And still the Joker walks free to wreck havoc on all of us,” Jason snapped, unfolding his arms from across his chest abruptly and heading for the door.

 

“You aren't leaving, are you?” she called.

 

“No,” he snarled. “But I am getting a fucking smoke.”

 

He looked like he wanted to slam a door but settled for stomping out.

 

“Do you really think logic like that was such a good idea?” Tim asked from across the room and Barbara pushed her glasses up. 

 

“Just because it made him angrier doesn't mean it won't slowly sink it,” she said. 

 

“Well, he didn't attack anyone,” Steph said. 

 

“Come on girl,” Tim said, finally pulling her up with him. “Let's get you back to bed.”

 

“Not that I'm not thrilled to see Dick again but god, please,” she said, leaning heavily against him and Tim shared a look with Barbara, both of them thinking about the army heading their way and the fire brewing in Gotham.

 

-0-

 

It did not take long for Dick to find Bruce on the roof. He had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, considering the patched hole in the wall and the bloodstains on the floor near the bottom steps. He crouched down, looking at where the stains had been scrubbed raw but not completely wiped away. 

 

Shaking his head slightly, he took the stairs two at a time, missing the graffiti in the room where the Joker had been held on his way to the roof. 

 

Swinging the door open and seeing more bloodstains, Dick approached Bruce who stood at the edge of the roof, the night breeze stirring his hair as he looked out over the fires. Dick shut his flashlight off and approached, letting the fires light them. 

 

“Did you have that all this time?” Bruce asked.

 

“No,” Dick said. “It was out of Jason's pack. I swiped it a few days ago just so I'd have something. He has a wind up lantern we used mostly.”

 

“You two have been alone together for a long time,” Bruce said. 

 

“We got lost,” Dick said. “Lost our way, lost our compass, got trapped in Atlantis,” and Bruce's head snapped around to stare at him. “They were locking down,” Dick said. “We couldn't get back out for a long time. We were trying, all along to get home.”

 

“Metropolis is a far detour from Atlantis,” Bruce remarked. 

 

“What are you fishing for, Bruce?” Dick asked. 

 

“You were gone so long,” Bruce said. “And to be outside of Gotham—”

 

“Do you know what it's like outside of Gotham?” Dick asked. “Anymore, I mean. It's been a long time since you last left. Do you know Atlantis has electricity? Out there in the middle of the desert they can light up the whole city at night.”

 

“Because they are ruled by dictators,” Bruce said.

 

“Maybe,” Dick said. “But is that the only thing they have going for them?”

 

For a long while it was just them and the crackle of fire and mournful cry of the wind. “I don't know,” Bruce admitted. “I thought when I was young, that you either had to control the madness or let it go. To control it was to be a warlord, to let it go was to be... something else.”

 

“Alfred mentioned a few times,” Dick said. “This idea of the philosopher king. I thought he was talking about you as a kid, but he wasn't. It was the king who could make the enlightened choices even though he was still making those decisions for everyone else. Enlightened despotism if you will.”

 

“And you think that's the better choice?” Bruce asked.

 

“No,” Dick said. “Maybe. It's a choice. Gotham doesn't have to live like this though.” Seeing Bruce's narrow eyed look he snorted. “And no, I haven't been corrupted. I just think we've been fooling ourselves.”

 

“Anyone would have a hard time corrupting you,” Bruce said after a beat. “It's one of the few things that has kept me going.”

 

Biting his lip, Dick looked away. “I guess it depends on how you mean corruptible,” he amended. 

 

“You killed someone,” Bruce said, not needing to make it a question.

 

Dick shuddered all over, his arms coming up to hug his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “It—I was—it was Jason. He was in trouble because he made himself a target, to distract them and all I had was the gun and I knew—there were different ways to shoot someone, ways you don't have to kill them. But all I had was that gun and a second and I had to get them off him so I shot, knowing full well it was going to be a killing blow.” 

 

For a moment Bruce stared at him, impassive and as intimidating as ever before he reached out, touching a hand lightly to Dick's hair and Dick shook again, shivers going down his spine but not quite crying. “Even when you kill,” he said, soft and dark and Dick thought again about the ocean and the desert and vast expanses of everything. “You do it because you love too much.”

 

“It's still killing someone,” Dick managed past the lump in his throat. 

 

“Yes,” Bruce agreed. “It still tears us apart and leaves us with ghosts.”

 

“Don't try and make this something better,” Dick said, a sob caught at the back of his throat and Bruce pulled him in again, not as tightly or desperately as earlier, but Dick could still count on his hands the number of times Bruce embraced him. Two in one night felt like a feast of riches. 

 

“Bruce,” he mumbled into his shoulder, his hands coming up his back to rest on his shoulder blades. 

 

“I missed you,” Bruce said, such tiny and simple words with such a depth behind them and Dick gave a watery laugh. 

 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I missed you too.”

 

After a moment, Bruce pulled back, still leaving his hands on Dick's shoulders. “Why did you never tell me?” he asked, and Dick almost made some excuse to leave. “Why did you never tell me you saw?”

 

“Because you wanted to be a different person,” Dick said. “You believed what you believed, and I wanted to believe in the person you wanted to be. Alfred and I talked about it, sometimes, at night when he would read to me. He told me about the way you would come home some nights, barely in your teens and fall down with bloody hands and put your head in his lap and cry.” Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. “You acted, Bruce, and you had to live that act. But you were destroying yourself to survive. Why would I remind you of that?” 

 

“Why did you sneak out in the first place to see it?” Bruce asked. 

 

“Because you told me not to,” Dick said. “Because Gotham was my city too and that man was responsible for killing my parents. Oh, I know Tony Zucco wasn't the warlord that was Carmine Falcone. But don't think I didn't notice who else went down that day.”

 

Bruce ducked his chin down. “Yes,” was all he said.

 

“It's a weird way to show affection,” Dick murmured. “Taking vengeance for me so I wouldn't have to.”

 

“You were a boy,” Bruce said. “I couldn't—I just couldn't—but I also didn't want you to ever endure what I did.”

 

“And that,” Dick said, touching his cheek. “Is why I never told you. You wanted to change, and you wanted to save me. And that's the person I believed in and have followed all these years.”

 

“It doesn't change a damn thing I've ever done,” Bruce said.

 

“No,” Dick agreed. “It doesn't.” He stroked his fingers across Bruce's face, curling his fingers at the top of his cheekbone. “You've done good for Gotham. Maybe we can make it even better now, together. We've grown a lot from that scared little boy and the big monster that saved his life and took him home and tried to hide him from his enemies.”

 

Bruce flickered a smile at him. “Some things haven't changed though.”

 

“Yeah, I still love you,” Dick said and was braced for the tiny wince Bruce gave, like he always did. “I still believe in you. We're a bit more beaten but still going.”

 

“Still going,” Bruce said. 

 

“And the others still love you too,” Dick said. “Don't think I didn't notice the strain in that room. But they still care about you, about Gotham. We'll all sort it out.”

 

“Where did you get all this faith from?” Bruce asked with a wry twist of his mouth.

 

“Alfred mostly,” Dick said and the name echoed between them. “You, too.”

 

“From me?”

 

“You're really stubborn,” Dick said flatly and Bruce almost laughed, a huff of air escaping him. “You don't let go of something once you have it. So I'm stubborn about my faith. I don't let it go.”

 

Bruce was still touching him, and Dick stepped forward again to rest his forehead against Bruce's chest. “We're going to get through this too,” he whispered and Bruce just held on to his shoulders.

 

-0-

 

“Have you picked a side yet?” Edward asked, dangling from the fire escape from his knees. 

 

Jonathan didn't look up at him. “Have you?”

 

“Well, the city is tearing itself apart,” Edward said. “I hear it's better to pick a side then not.”

 

“You're going to pick whichever side has the better chance of surviving,” a new voice said from the darkness and Jonathan and Edward both turned their heads to see Waylon Jones standing down the way.

 

“And you aren't?” Edward asked. 

 

“Or do you expect your joining either side will influence the outcome?” Jonathan asked, even though his eyes had narrowed dangerously, and his posture had shifted into fight or flight. Edward considered him, trying to decide which one was more likely. They were partners by chance and ease rather then any real affection for each other and sometimes Crane's mind was still a total mystery to him. 

 

Waylon's smile was not amused. “I would never be so arrogant,” he said. “But you're running out of time.”

 

“Oh, is this a timed test?” Edward asked, pulling himself up so he was no longer swaying. He scrambled around so he was sitting at the bottom of the fire escape, his legs dangling down. 

 

“Let's just say no one is waiting for a sign,” Waylon said, strolling past them down the alleyway. 

 

“Oi,” Edward called after him. “Which side _are_ you on?”

 

Waylon paused, turning to give them both a smile full of too many teeth, and Jonathan tensed, leaning away. “You'll have to figure that out for yourselves.”

 


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why this took three times as long as normal.

Damian was curled up on Dick's bed by the time he crawled in. “Hey,” Dick said quietly.

 

“I wasn't sleeping, Grayson,” Damian protested. “You don't have to be quiet.”

 

“It's not so bad to check first,” Dick said and he paused, wanting to wrap his arms around Damian and pull him against his chest and decided just to rest a hand on his shoulder instead, feeling Damian's shuddering breath. 

 

“I've sneaked in here since you've been gone,” Damian said after a while of just listening to Dick breathing. “Some nights.”

 

“I missed you too,” Dick said and Damian rolled over to hit him against the chest. 

 

“Stop it, Grayson.”

 

“Can't I say I missed you?” Dick asked. 

 

“It's embarrassing,” Damian muttered. “Besides I also made out with Drake here.”

 

“You,” Dick started and blinked into the darkness as he hadn't bothered to light a candle. “What?”

 

“You know exactly what I said, Grayson, there is no reason to act like a fool,” Damian muttered. 

 

“But,” Dick's mind whirled. “You and Tim? When I left all you could agree one was—” and he stopped for a second. “Was that you didn't want me to leave.”

 

“Yet you did anyway,” Damian said. “Things have been... difficult without you.”

 

“Yeah,” Dick said softly. “I've been hearing.”

 

“You look like shit,” Damian said. “So I presume things were not so easy for you either.”

 

Dick tried to bit back his laugh, though some of it escaped anyway. “We ran into your mother,” he said after he got it under control and he felt Damian's hand tighten around his bicep. “Her and Jason have a history that I only vaguely understand. But she said you told her about me and that she was wiling to spare what little—and it was little though it saved our lives—she could and sent us on our way.”

 

“Did she?” Damian asked, voice tense.

 

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I couldn't say exactly what she was thinking but... I think she misses you sometimes.”

 

“Our relationship,” Damian started. “Is,” he stopped again.

 

“Complicated,” Dick finished for him and Damian's fingers relaxed. 

 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I am glad she helped, whatever the reason was.” 

 

“It means she's willing to admit to her whole clan your good word carries weight,” Dick said. 

 

Damian was silent and Dick thought he might have fallen asleep when he spoke again. “You and Jason,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah?” Dick asked.

 

“You're together now,” Damian said. 

 

“Is that a problem?” Dick asked, trying not to tense or pull away. 

 

“It is concerning,” Damian said. “He is not going to want to stay. Especially not with his anger at Bruce. And when he leaves you'll go with him.”

 

“Hold up,” Dick said. “I have never—I have never left. Not of my own will.”

 

“But you love him,” Damian said. “It's always been obvious. But now you've both admitted it, and have probably acted on it. And he will very likely not stay.”

 

“Just because I love him doesn't mean I'm going with him,” Dick said.

 

“Doesn't it?” Damian asked, his voice small. “You love him.”

 

“And I love you,” Dick said. “And Bruce. And Tim. And Babs. And Steph and Cass and hell, I love this horrible stupid city in all her desolate glory.”

 

“But you love him,” Damian protested. 

 

“Yes,” Dick said. “If he leaves I'll be torn apart. But if I leave with him, I'll still be torn apart because I'll have to leave you and the others and that won't be any better. My only hope is that in the end he'll decide to stay. But I won't force him to stay with me either. I couldn't, even if I wanted to.”

 

“And you don't want to,” Damian said when he got his voice back.

 

“No, I don't want to,” Dick said quietly. 

 

“Because you love him,” Damian said. 

 

Dick frowned, shifting a bit closer to Damian. “Are you scared I want to leave again, or is it something else?”

 

“I don't want you to leave,” Damian said instantly. “Not now or ever. But...” he fell silent and for a while Dick was content to let him gather his thoughts. “If Tim cannot forgive Bruce for killing in the past then how will he forgive me the same?” Damian suddenly blurted. “He knows I killed in the desert you all do. It was survival and what I was raised to do. Yet he lashes out at Bruce and kisses me. I know we have not been... the most... satisfactory or wise of couplings and yet—”

 

“Oh,” Dick managed. “Damian—”

 

“Don't offer empty platitudes,” Damian snapped.   
  
“I wasn't going to,” Dick said. “I promise. It's just that you should talk to him about this. His, the way he reacts to Bruce is going to be different from you.”

 

“He cannot forgive killing,” Damian said. 

 

“I'm sure it's more complicated then that,” Dick said and the door pushed open, Jason standing on the other side with a candle. 

 

Dick turned over, trying to keep his face expressionless until he knew how Jason was reacting. “Ah,” Jason said. “I'm interrupting.”

 

“Come in,” Dick said, holding out an arm and Damian tensed beside him, starting to slink away before he stopped and held his ground. 

 

“I'm not leaving,” he said, glaring at Jason over Dick's shoulder. 

 

“I wasn't asking you to,” Dick said and Jason hovered again because he entered the room, closing the door and setting the candle down. 

 

“A little possessive for a brat, aren't you?” Jason asked and pulled his jacket off as Dick sat up.

 

“He would not kick me out,” Damian said. “Besides, you have had him plenty of nights while we have not.” Dick coughed, tilting his head to watch Jason. 

 

“You would want to leave if we started making love,” Jason said and Damian froze.

 

“You're not going to,” he said, more a question then a statement and Jason grinned at him as he sat down on the edge of the pallet to pull his boots off. Dick lifted the covers and pulled Jason underneath them and against his chest, tangling their legs together. After a moment, Damian rolled over, pressing his knees to the small of Dick's back.

 

“We're really not going to sleep like this, are we?” Jason asked. 

 

“Why not?” Dick asked, nuzzled against his collarbone. Jason and Damian both snorted and then stilled when they realized what they had both done. 

 

“Don't say a word, brat.”

 

“Of course not, waste,” Damian replied and Dick half laughed and half sighed. 

 

“Go to sleep,” he said and they stilled on either side of him.

 

-0-

 

“No one can raise an army like they used to be able to,” Barbara said the next morning. “But several hundred soldiers walking our way is still far too many to deal with considering we are less then twenty.”

 

“In other words, we need allies,” Dick said. “Babs, these women you know—” 

 

“Sure can't command armies,” Barbara said. 

 

“My own mother would be difficult to convince to come to our aid,” Damian said, hovering by the door and not looking at Tim. “Even if she could convince the rest of the League without losing power, of course.”

 

“Not even to save you?” Steph asked. 

 

“That is not how life in the desert works,” Damian said.

 

Bruce's hands were steppled under his chin. “What are our options then?”

 

“Run,” Dick said and they all stared at him. “Fight and die. Unite Gotham, fight and then maybe not die.”

 

“Excuse me?” Bruce asked. 

 

“Unite Gotham,” Dick said. 

 

“How?” Bruce demanded. “With _who_?”

 

“You yourselves said that Cobblepot was the one who came to you about the Joker,” Dick said. 

 

“And what?” Jason asked. “You think that means we can become allies with those sorts of people?”

 

“I'm not saying with the Joker,” Dick said. “But Nygma? Cobblepot? These people still have power in this city, followers sometimes, and they have been at our backs for a long time.”

 

“You do not understand what they're like,” Bruce cut in. “What they're capable of and what we would have to promise them to keep them from siding _with_ Luthor instead of against him.”

 

“Except this is their city too,” Dick said. “And even if we cannot gain their cooperation and help there are still the countless civilians in this city who have been—waiting I suppose for someone to tell them they matter. You know there's a group down by the old docks, who actually are trying to rebuild education? There's another in the old financial who are trying to create farms. The reality is this city has been waiting for us to wake up and actually help the people here,” he paused, meeting Bruce's eyes. “Wasn't that the point? Isn't it time? You've never asked Gotham to stand with you before.” 

 

Bruce's hands tightened and loosened as he stared at Dick. “And do you really think after all this time Gotham would stand with me?”

 

“It's better to try, isn't it?”

 

“Tim,” Bruce said. “I need Cobblepot. Dick, you seem to know the city and seeing you alive and active would do much to take power away from the Joker. Jason, it's not me to command but go with him.”

 

“Right,” Jason said. 

 

“Barbara I need all the information you have,” Bruce continued. “Steph, you help her sort through whatever we have, and gather information from anyone coming back on progress. Damian, with Tim.”

 

“And I with you,” Cassandra said, and Bruce nodded. 

 

By the door Damian's eyes flickered to Tim, noticing that they were paired up last as if Bruce had been trying to avoid such a situation until he had run out of options. “I could go with Dick, and Jason with Tim,” he offered.

 

“No,” Bruce said and Tim winced, looking away from him.

 

“Yeah, no,” Jason agreed. “Come on, Dick. If you're insisting on uniting Gotham we're going to be out all day and all night and all the next day getting doors slammed in our faces. Those who have doors to slam of course.” 

 


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you know how I said real life might be catching up with me? Well I'm moving in like a week or three weeks across 5 or so states. So. Promises for updates are out the window. 
> 
> Most of this chapter was written to the Hamilton musical, except the scene with Lex which switched to "Cool Cool Considerate Men" from the 1776 musical.

Cobblepot sat back in his chair and laughed, Dick standing in front of him with his arms crossed. “Are you mad?” he gasped, Dick staring at him levelly. “The prodigal son returns from the wasteland madder then the hatter.”

 

“Cute,” Dick said. 

 

“I'm not done, boy,” Cobblepot said, sitting up abruptly. 

 

“Yes you are,” Dick said. “You yourself came to Bruce not so long ago—”

 

“For a warning, not an alliance,” Cobblepot said. 

 

“Would you rather have Gotham in flames?” Dick asked. “Would you rather watch the city come under the control of another man? To see the power that hasn't even been yours in years pass to someone else?”

 

“Luthor is a warlord,” Cobblepot said. “Like the warlords of old. Who says he won't appoint governors?” 

 

“What makes you think it would be you?” Jason asked, one hand on his gun and looking around as Dick focused on Cobblepot in front of them. “Face it, you're pretty old and washed up. There's plenty more with the same experience who are still, hm,” his eyes flickered over and Cobblepot's hand tightened on the top of his cane. “Fitter and more inclined to grovel.”

 

“Gotham isn't known for it's groveling,” Cobblepot said. 

 

“Then let's keep it that way,” Dick said. 

 

Cobblepot shook his head. “You're mad,” he said.

 

“You already expressed that,” Dick said. 

 

“Did daddy honestly agree with this?” Cobblepot asked, and grinned when Jason winced. 

 

“Yes,” Dick said without reacting. 

 

“Of course you know you won't gain anyone's alliance without offering something,” Cobblepot said. “Some perks, some assurances. Or you'll be facing the army alone with enemies at your back.”

 

“Yes,” Dick said softly. 

 

Cobblepot leaned forward, his hands folded over his cane top. “And you're really willing to do that? To make such a devil's bargin.”

 

“Do you believe in the Gotham we've been living in?” Dick asked and Cobblepot's eyebrows shot up. For a long minute he didn't say anything before he smiled. 

 

“You're either going to burn Gotham down,” he said, and Dick tensed, the first obvious reaction he'd had the whole conversation. “Or you might just save it.”

 

“We'll have to see, won't we?” Dick said and Cobblepot was still grinning as he rose, moving over to the table on the other side of the room. Dick and Jason followed him with their eyes.

 

“Well,” he said, pulling a large roll off the table. “We will indeed. As a gesture of my willingness to talk, I offer this.”

 

Dick's eyes narrowed but he accepted the roll, his eyes widening as he unrolled the start of it. 

 

“I trust,” Cobblepot continued. “That you will remember not only my willingness to help, but also the fact that by deciding to help you first, others will follow my example.”

 

“So you want special treatment in other words,” Jason said and Dick raised his eyes.

 

“We will remember,” he said. “Thank you, Oswald.”

 

Cobblepot scowled at the use of his first name and used his cane to gesture at the door. Inclining his head, Dick turned on his heel, the roll tucked under his elbow. Giving Cobblepot a last suspicious look, Jason followed him.

 

“What is that, anyway?” he asked once they were outside, Cobblepot's guards eyeing them the whole way out. 

 

“His map of Gotham.”

 

“We have maps of Gotham,” Jason said. 

 

Dick unrolled the whole paper, showing Jason the map. “Not one that marks out everyone's territories and factions,” he said and Jason reached forward, but stopped before taking the map from Dick.

 

“That's insane,” he said. “It's updated—it's almost up to date too.”

 

“It's a great idea of where to even start looking for some people,” Dick said. “Selina for example.”

 

“Oh Bruce is going to love that,” Jason said under his breath.

 

“And I know who we need to talk to,” Dick added. 

 

“Yeah?” Jason asked. 

 

Dick rolled up the map, tucking it under his elbow before answering. “Helena.”

 

He started walking, leaving Jason rooted to the spot for a second before he hurried to catch up. “Dick, whoa. Bruce is going to walk off the roof of a building before agreeing to that.”

 

“If he's willing to talk to Cobblepot, Helena isn't going to present nearly such a problem,” Dick said. 

 

“Yeah, except for that whole the people who mostly agree with you except on the key point of your whole morality are the ones that are often the hardest to get along with,” Jason said and Dick flickered a smile at him. “Stop smiling.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Dick said. “And I agree. Those working for the same goal who disagree on the actual mechanics of achieving that goal are harder to get along with. Jumping into bed with your enemies during desperate times is one thing but—but Helena has almost the whole Northwest of Gotham. Besides,” and he looked over at Jason. “He's accepted you back. Would have earlier if you had let him.”

 

“I don't think it's quite acceptance,” Jason said when he could catch his breath. “On either of our parts.”

 

“Not yet, maybe,” Dick said. 

 

“Maybe I'm behind on where he and Helena stand,” Jason said. “But I remember there being very little affection on either side.”

 

“Totally none,” Dick agreed. “But we need her. As much as anyone else.” 

 

“Please let me be out of the room when you bring that one up,” Jason said. 

 

-0-

 

Lex Luthor closed the spyglass and looked over at Clark. “How much longer do they estimate?”

 

“Two and a half more days,” Clark said, trying not to shift or look away. This time their force was large enough even the large groups of outsiders living in the forests dared not to attack them. 

 

“And what do you think our chances are?” Luthor asked and Clark frowned at him. 

 

“Excuse me?” he asked, consciously having to drop off the 'sir' that after so many years he still wanted to add. 

 

“Against Gotham?” Luthor said and Clark had been trying not to think about where they were going. He had even been trying not to dwell on the fact that once Bruce would have had to take this path to and from Metropolis himself. 

 

How many years had it been since he had seen Bruce? How many years since Bruce was in these forests too?

 

Maybe he should have stayed in Gotham all those years ago, when Bruce had taken it and a child in one fell swoop. Except he had been angry and convinced he could do something in his own city. 

 

“We have an army,” Clark said. “Of two hundred men. Gotham, from all accounts has none.” 

 

“To think,” Luthor said, turning away and as always Clark felt himself relax slightly that Luthor was not watching him directly. “That once armies used to be hundreds upon hundreds of men. Thousands. Millions even, from different countries. But that was a different time then city states. This whole space would have been part of one country.”

 

“That was a long time ago,” Clark said, swallowing. 

 

“To imagine,” Luthor said. “To be able to put that many into the field at the same time.”

 

Clark swallowed, because he would rather not. “It would have led to more deaths as well,” he said, and tried to ignore the way Luthor laughed. 

 

“It is interesting,” he said. “How you are my second, when you are so disinclined to war.” 

 

“But I am very good at every thing else I do,” Clark said.

 

“Yes,” Luthor said warmly. “You are.” He looked around the camp, where soldiers were settling in for the night before he focused back on Clark, whose shoulders tensed and spine straightened. “It has been a long time since Wayne came to Metropolis.”

 

“Many years,” Clark agreed. “Almost twenty now.”

 

“It's funny,” Luthor said. “Carmine had such hopes of him.”

 

“He was a good actor,” Clark said.

 

“Oh, no,” Luthor shook his head. “You cannot act killing people, you cannot turn that into anything except what it was. He was one of Carmine's enforcers and no regrets or change of heart can change that.” Luthor looked away again, a faint and sardonic smile on his face. “But his intentions were always different.”

 

“And now we're going to crush him,” Clark said, wishing he had kept his mouth shut instead of risking his voice quavering. Luckily for him, it didn't. 

 

“Yes,” Luthor agreed.

 

-0-

 

Dick shoved everything on Bruce's desk to the side. “What's this?” Barbara asked, wheeling over as Bruce caught one of the books that was in danger of toppling over.

 

“Cobblepot's map,” Dick said.

 

Barbara craned her neck over to look at it and her jaw dropped before she clicked it shut and adjusted her glasses. “This is... why don't I have one of these?”

 

Bruce frowned at it. “And he gave you this?” he asked. 

 

“In return for future treatment,” Jason said. “Which, I don't trust at all.”

 

“We've fought with him and the others for years,” Dick said. “As much as I like to hope we'll work out a post war settlement pleasing to everyone as long as we survive this we'll be able to not please some in the end.” 

 

“So Cobblepot agreed to help,” Bruce said. 

 

“Yes,” Dick nodded. “Jones wouldn't talk to me and Edward gave me a riddle. Still trying to figure out if it means yes or no or is just a stalling tactic.”

 

“I think it's the last one,” Jason added, standing across the room from Bruce and shifting whenever Bruce did to keep the same amount of space between them. 

 

Barbara traced the boundaries on the map. “This was updated after Harvey died,” she said. 

 

“But not where the Joker is now,” Bruce said. 

 

“Bruce,” Dick said. “You need to talk to Selina.”

 

Bruce's eyes flickered up and for a moment no one said anything or moved as Dick and Bruce stared each other down. “You know what you're asking.”

 

“She won't listen to any of us,” Dick said, and pointed to the city center where her name was sketched in. “And she doesn't have territory. But she can influence others.”

 

“It would look good for us,” Barbara said. “We're working against the perception of who we are, that will confuse a lot of people. We have to be seen as sincere here.”

 

“No one will follow us if they think we're going to keep acting the way we always have,” Dick said. “Selina is good with people. She can be good for us.”

 

“Or stab us in the back,” Bruce said.

 

“We also need Helena,” Dick said, not looking away from Bruce. Next to him, Barbara's eyes snapped up. 

 

“No.”

 

“That wasn't a question,” Dick said. 

 

“She once wanted to work with you,” Barbara said softly, looking at Bruce. “She's the most likely to help us, and continue standing with us.”

 

“She,” Bruce started and strangled his words in his throat. 

 

“We're working to save Gotham,” Dick reminded him quietly. 

 

“No matter what it takes,” Barbara added.

 

Hands tight on the top of his desk, Bruce glowered down at the map in silence before he finally sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I'll find Selina, you talk to Helena.”

 

Dick nodded, not daring to say anything before he turned and went back out the door, Jason following him. 

 

“That could have gone worse,” he said.

 

“Don't say that,” Dick said. “Helena and him haven't been in the same room yet.”

 

“Helena, Selina and Bruce in the same room,” Jason added and Dick stopped. “This is going to be fun.”

 

“We should see if we can check in with Tim and Damian,” Dick decided, instead of dignifying that with a response. Jason laughed, shaking his head slightly as they went out into Gotham's twilight.

 


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was hijacked and waylaid by Mockingjay Part 2 feelings.
> 
> (EDIT: I double posted this chapter let us all move along with our lives and pretend I'm not exhausted enough that just happened)

Damian waited until they were heading back toward the old city hall before speaking. “I believe we should talk.”

 

“Should we?” Tim asked, coming to a stop on top of a building, leaning against the crumbling half wall and counting the fires around Gotham. He turned his head when there was silence. “You said we should talk,” he said, and Damian's face was scrunched up and angry. 

 

“And you returned it with a question that meant you believe we have nothing worth discussing,” Damian said.

 

“Aren't you happy Dick is back?” Tim asked. “Focus on that.”

 

“Grayson's return does not undermine our current relationship,” Damian snapped and Tim froze. 

 

“Did you just call it—”

 

“What else is it?” Damian demanded. “But if you believe what we have to not even be a relationship than we are clearly not on the same mental level and you're right, this whole conversation becomes superfluous.” He turned, heading for the edge of the roof and Tim sagged his arm, yanking him back.

 

Damian turned with a snarl and for a moment they stared at each other. “It surprised me was all,” Tim said. 

 

His mouth drawing back into a sneer, Damian jerked his arm away. “Which still proves my point that we have nothing to speak of in that case.”

 

“I'm not saying we don't have a relationship,” Tim protested. “I just never expected you to _say_ it.”

 

“Which implies you think it did not matter to me,” Damian said. “Which puts us back at my point.”

 

“You've never said it matters to you!” Tim hissed, reaching out for him again and Damian side stepped his hand. “You've actively made it so I would assume exactly that don't turn it around on me now—” 

 

“You have also acted like it has not mattered to you,” Damian said, and he looked more hurt by the moment. “Do not put all the blame on that on me. I followed your lead as much as I followed by own desire to pretend it was meaningless.”

 

“But,” Tim started and had to stop, almost shy as he looked over at Damian. “You were pretending.”

 

“Drake,” Damian snarled. “Try to keep up with the conversation.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Tim said. “It's just very new to me.”

 

“You've been in relationships before,” Damian protested. “With Brown, for instance. With others as well. It can't be that new to you.”

 

“You can,” Tim said and Damian tensed. He seemed to consider that before shaking his head. “You are new to me, Damian. No matter how well I think I know you, I realize I don't.”

 

“I'm not a book written in cipher,” Damian said. 

 

“Some days you might as well be,” Tim said and Damian went like he was going to leave the roof again. “Maybe,” Tim said reaching out to stop him again and Damian side stepped but did not leave yet. “We should consider talking it out.”

 

“That is what I wanted,” Damian said and Tim was starting to realize the anger in his voice was covering up vulnerability. He wanted to hit his head against the wall. “And you said we did not need to.”

 

“Then I'll admit I'm wrong,” Tim said. “Because clearly we do have something worth talking about. I've been misunderstanding you and you me.” He looked back over the city, a message from Barabara coming over the ear piece. 

 

Damian followed his gaze. “But now is not the time,” he said softly and this time when he went off the roof Tim followed. 

 

-0-

 

“I assume everyone else has already laughed in your face,” Helena said, sitting on the table in the middle of her headquarters, one leg braces on the ground and her arms folded over her chest. 

 

“Yes,” Dick agreed.

 

“I'm surprised daddy even let you come,” she added and Jason tensed, even as Dick's mouth twisted.

 

“He didn't, strictly speaking,” Dick said after a beat. “More of I left the room after laying down the reality of the situation.” 

 

“Impressive,” she said. “I wish I could have seen you ever doing that.” 

 

Dick closed his eyes before opening them again. “Alright,” he said, softly. “I admit I handled everything as badly as Bruce. I'm sorry for not standing up for you when it mattered, that I didn't understand you as much as Bruce didn't. I'm sorry we both rejected you.” She blinked rapidly. “But what's happening to Gotham right now is bigger then that.”

 

“Well,” she said. “At least you do apologize when the mood strikes you.” 

 

“He does it a lot more then Bruce,” Jason offered and Dick and Helena both stared at him before focusing back on each other. 

 

“Even so, an apology is not enough to convince me,” Helena said.

 

“There is an army heading for Gotham,” Dick said.

 

Helena shrugged. “After  _you_ , not the rest of us.”

 

“You're underestimating what Gotham means to the outside world,” Dick said. “It's not about destroying Bruce, or even exposing the fractured state of the city. It's about destroying a symbol and that means the whole city. Luthor wouldn't even work with the Joker or try and set up the city with a new warlord. He wants it destroyed and raised to the ground.”

 

“You're assuming a lot,” Helena said.

 

Dick shrugged, holding his hands out. “Perhaps. But Gotham means the that warlords are not invincible, their world does not have to be the only one. Gotham stands for so much—and it could stand for even more.”

 

Drawing her legs up onto the table and crossing them, Helena rested her elbows on her knees. “Oh?” she asked, watching Dick intently. “You're making it sound like it already stands for a lot.”

 

“Every city I've seen out there has a resistance movement,” Dick said. “Imagine what it would mean I Gotham was actually a symbol of that revolution. If we actually created a viable alternative and let the other cities know what we have. We could help them, we could be a shelter in the storm for those that can make it to our door.” 

 

“You make Gotham sound like a utopia,” she said. “You do remember your own city, don't you? With it's fires and squalor and fear and apathy.”

 

“Because Gotham could be that,” Dick said. Standing a little behind him, Jason's eyes slid over. 

 

“And we shall be it's glorious saviors?” she asked. “You do remember who you're talking to? There's a reason daddy Wanye kicked me out of the club house.”

 

“I know,” Dick said. 

 

“Is that why you brought Todd with you?” she asked.

 

“He didn't bring me,” Jason protested. “I came with him.”

 

Dick breathed deeply before letting it out. “I can't say I approve of murder as a status quo,” he said. “I don't believe in killing as a rule. But,” his fingers twitched. “On the other hand letting the Joker and his ilk run rampart in this city is why the we have failed in the last two decades. I'm not sure what the answer is. And even with your own methods you haven't been that much more effective.”

 

“I am in this part of the city,” she said. “My people respect me and they are not allowed here. They are safe and they believe me when I speak which is more then I can say for the rest of the city.”

 

Even behind Dick, Jason could see his wince. “Yes,” he said softly. “But you keep order by public executions.”

 

“Yes,” she agreed, eyes narrowed. 

 

“If we survive this,” Dick said quietly. “I want to be able to work together. Even if it means compromise on both sides.”

 

“And by compromise do you mean you dictate the terms of what is allowed and what is not while I have to kneel over or be kicked to the curb again?” she asked. 

 

Jason realized he was holding his breath as he watched Dick, who stood frozen for a long moment in silence. “No,” he said finally. “I do mean compromise. I will never be able to approve fully of your methods,” and his eyes flickered to Jason. “I  _can't_ . But I understand why. I understand even your point. It is effective. I want to believe as Bruce does there can be another way, that we can have order and peace without death. But it might be a pipe dream. And I want to survive as much as I want to believe, us and this city.”

 

Jason and Helena both stared at him before a slow smile started to spread across Helena's face. Unfolding her legs, she dropped down from the table, reaching for Dick and pulling his face close before he could protest into a kiss. Tensing, he allowed it for barely a moment before he pulled back and she let him. “Sometimes I remember why I tried to seduce you the first time round is all,” she said as he took a step back. 

 

“You didn't try,” he said. “You succeeded.” 

 

“For a night,” she said. “Not that we would have worked out. And you and Barbara were dopey enough to make up for it.”

 

“Excuse me?” Dick asked and Jason wasn't moving. 

 

She shrugged. “Simply that we would have been quite different and she deserved something sweet.” 

 

Dick considered her for a moment. “You and Babs are still in contact, aren't you?” he said finally. 

 

“It was nice of you to come though,” she said, leaning her hip against the table again. “Even though all she needed to do was call me and make a few comments. Your speech was lovely.”

 

“I meant what I said about compromise,” he said. 

 

“Does daddy?”

 

“Could you stop?” Dick asked and she shrugged. “He'll have to. Because one way or another, the last few months have proved Gotham cannot go on like this.”

 

-0-

 

Jason waited until they were outside again, Dick blowing on the tips of his fingers to ward off the cold of the night. “Did you mean what you said?”

 

“Generally I do,” Dick said, looking up at him and he stopped, tilted toward Jason. “About compromise, you mean?”

 

“You always were the smart one,” Jason said. 

 

“I meant it,” Dick said. “To—to you too. I know you,” and he looked away. “Promised to try and stay, even though you want to leave. I want to convince you to stay,” and he wrapped his arms around his chest. “I do. But I know I can't force you to.”

 

“So you're dangling compromise in front of me, trying to tempt me?”

 

Dick winced. “What? No. Not like that. I meant that I understand as much as I hate killing. I killed the man because he was going to hurt you, remember? I want you to stay with me,” and he finally lifted his eyes again. “I do. But I can't ask you to give up what you believe just to do it.” His eyelids flickered, and he looked down again. “I wouldn't want to.”

 

“Even if you disagree with it.”

 

“Yes,” Dick said and Jason reached out, dragging Dick against his chest. Dick tilted his head back as Jason bent down, meeting halfway on the street, with flames in the distance their own illumination. Dick's arms came up around Jason's neck and he licked his way into Jason's mouth, hot against the cool night air. 

 

“Hey, love birds,” and they broke apart, Dick dropping into a combat stance as Jason reached for his guns. “Dangerous place to not pay attention.”

 

“Technically it's Helena's territory, which she claims is well ordered,” Dick said, and Jason drew his guns, flicking the safety off both of them. “Hello, Roman.”

 

 


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Welcome to chapter 50. What a milestone.

Bruce considered the crumbling staircase in front of him. “She probably uses a ladder,” Cassandra remarked from where she crouched behind his shoulder. 

 

“Charming,” Bruce said. Still behind him, Cassandra's eyes slid over to his back. Opening her mouth she decided to remain silent. 

 

“Do you have a plan?” she asked finally instead. “We came all this way to talk to Selina—”

 

“That's too bad,” a young voice called from above and both their heads snapped up to see a blondish haired girl looking back down at them from the third floor. “Because she doesn't want to see you.”

 

If Cassandra hadn't watched Bruce for so long she might have missed the wince. “It's important,” Bruce called up. “Holly, I promise I wouldn't have come otherwise.”

 

The girl in question snorted. “Whatever, Bruce. Everything you do is important, according to you.”

 

“That's Selina talking,” Bruce said and Holly snorted again.

 

“Of course it is, who do you think I spend all my time with?” 

 

Bruce grit his teeth before obviously forcing himself to relax. “Holly, I would deeply like to speak to Selina.”

 

Crossing her arms, Holly squinted at him. “How honest is he being?” she asked, her eyes not leaving Bruce but obviously addressing Cassandra.

 

“We are in danger,” Cassandra said. “The whole city is. Dick Grayson is technically the one that sent us.”

 

Holly paused for a moment, muffling a giggle behind her hand when she processed what Cassandra said. “I think Bruce allowing himself to be sent is worth letting you up,” she decided finally and like Cassandra predicted a ladder was let down. 

 

“This hardly seems efficient,” Bruce muttered and Cassandra let him go up first. “Is Selina actually here?” Bruce asked when he reached the top. 

 

“Sure,” Holly said, scampering off and Bruce and Cassandra looked at each other before they followed her. 

 

Selina it turned out was another floor up in the attic, candles placed around the floor. Holly had beaten them there, curled up already at Selina's side. “What can I help you with?” Selina asked, looking up and unimpressed. 

 

Bruce stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Cassandra was ready to quietly prompt him to say something when he started speaking. “I know we parted on bad terms,” he said and Selina snorted. “As we often do.”

 

“I'm sick of playing the same drama out, Bruce,” Selina said. “We get along for a while, you remember your senses and get mad and I taunt you and we fight more and then we separate to lick our wounds.”

 

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched before he composed his face again. “True,” he agreed. “But this time I'm not coming because of us.”

 

“Then why?” Selina asked. Cassandra itched to move, wanting to prowl around the room and check all the nooks and dark shadows but she forced herself to remain still and at Bruce's shoulder. 

 

Bruce shifted, his hands useless in the air in front of him. “Because this city needs us all,” he said finally and Selina slowly arched her brows at him. “Gotham has been allowed to fester for too long and I know... my mistakes in that regard. But Lex Luthor is on his way here with an army and I'm certain you have heard of what the Joker is up to right now.”

 

Selina stared at him. “An army?” she repeated. 

 

“Yes,” Bruce said.

 

“Gotha can barely hold itself together on a good day, and you expect us to somehow repel an entire _army_ with the goal to destroy us.”

 

“If we stand together,” Bruce said and suddenly Selina was on her feet. Cassandra dropped into a defensive crouch automatically as Selina stepped toward Bruce.

 

“How dare you?” she hissed, stopping two feet in front of him, her nostrils flaring.

 

“I'm serious,” Bruce said quietly. “For once, perhaps, I am being serious.”

 

“I don't want to hear it.”

 

“Selina—” 

 

“Get _out_ , Bruce,” she snarled, her finger flexing even though she was not wearing the clawed gauntlets that were her trademark.

 

Bruce took a step back and stopped, holding his ground. “We need your help,” he repeated. “To save all of Gotham. To create a new Gotham.”

 

“That ship sailed when there was still an ocean,” she said, Holly watching from the window seat with wide eyes. “I want you gone.”

 

“So you'll have a good view to watch Gotham burn?” Cassandra asked quietly, and Selina's eyes snapped over to her. 

 

“If it burns it's only because the detritus has built up enough a wild fire is the only answer,” she said and Cassandra wrinkled her nose at that. 

 

“Fires are good for a forest's health,” she said, because the book she had been laboriously forcing herself through was about wild fires in the forest. It had seemed the most practical to understand, considering the forest on three sides of the city. “They create renewal.”

 

“And are worse when they haven't been allowed to burn,” Selina said.

 

“Gotham has been burning a long time,” Bruce said. 

 

“Not a renewing fire,” Selina said, turning her back on him and flicking her fingers over her shoulders. “It's long since time that this place returns to nature.”

 

“You don't mean that,” Bruce said. “At the least you want to protect Holly—” Holly tensed at the window and Selina whirled back around.

 

“Do not bring her into this!” she roared and Bruce flinched back. “I thought I already told you to get out.”

 

“You did,” Bruce said. 

 

“Then for once in your life, Wayne, I expect you to listen,” she hissed and after another moment Bruce gave a tight nod, turning and stomping out of the room.

 

Cassandra followed on his heels silently until they reached the second floor landing. “She won't help.”

 

“She might yet,” Bruce said softly. 

 

Cassandra's head tilted up to look at him. “What?”

 

“We'll have to see,” Bruce said, cryptically and Cassandra frowned after him the rest of the way down.

 

-0-

 

Steph braced her hands on the table, almost upsetting the pins that Barbara was placing all around the map. “What's the point of this?” she asked. “I should be out there, with them, working the city not stuck here, useless!” 

 

Barbara looked up at her, pins still in her hands. “Excuse me?”

 

“I'm useless here,” Steph said. “I'm better out there, where I can move, where I can act. I'm not good at maps or planning but instead I'm stuck here!”

 

“You're injured,” Barbara said slowly. “Dent did a number on you. You're lucky we're letting you up and around.”

 

Steph slammed her hands on the table again, making the pins rattle and Barbara stared at her blank faced. “Yes,” she said slowly, when Steph hung her head. “It is hard to be left behind. It is hard to lose some of your mobility. But this is  _important_ . We need to know the lay of this city, where we can put up defenses and where we have to avoid  _even in the heat of battl_ e.”

 

Opening her mouth, Steph caught the wheelchair Barbara sat in out of the corner of her eye and came to a complete stop. “Oh,” she said quietly and Barbara arched a brow at her. “Right,” she said, more quietly before she started readjusting some of the pins she had upset. “Have we heard back any more on who is on our side and who is against?”

 

Barbara wheeled herself around the other side of the table. “Dick should be back any minute,” she said. “When he is, we'll know more.”

 

“Of course,” Steph said, quietly rearranging pins.

 

-0-

 

Leaning against the side of the fire escape he stood on, Roman grinned down at Dick and Jason, his face covered in black grease mixed with ashes. Dick knew the mixture because Roman had told him one time, across a fire and with a gun pointed at his face. The ashes, he insisted, where his fathers. 

 

Dick didn't ask him how they had lasted that long. 

 

But the mixture did give Roman a grotesque visage, which he supposed was the point in a city of madmen and fires. 

 

“Can we help you?” Dick called up to him.

 

“Nice to see you again,” Roman said instead. “Thought you were dead?” 

 

“Rumors were vastly exaggerated,” Dick replied, Jason shifting behind him, both guns out to match the one dangling idly in Roman's hand. “As you can see, I'm alive and still quite active.”

 

“Nice bruise around your throat,” Roman said and Dick winced, wondering if it was actually bad enough to be made out in this light or if Roman had been following them since earlier in the day. “Have fun out there in the wasteland?”

 

“It was a treat,” Dick replied. 

 

Roman laughed, an unhinged ugly sound. “Good to know some things don't change,” he said. “However, you running around and groveling to everyone is. So what's up, Grayson? What made the big bad in City Hall change his tune?”

 

“I don't know what you're talking about, Roman,” Dick said. 

 

“Don't fucking play coy with me,” Roman snapped, gesturing with his gun and Dick's eyes followed the motion. “You're gathering allies. Why? It's breaking form.”

 

“Maybe it's time for a change,” Dick said, shrugging.

 

“No,” Roman snapped, abrupt and harsh and Dick's shoulders tensed. “Tell me what's going on before I blow your brains out.”

 

Jason lifted his guns and Dick shifted, ready to spring in any direction at a moment's notice. “Like you could,” he said and Roman scowled, the expression obscured slightly by the grease on his face. 

 

“Why is the truth so fucking hard for you people?”

 

“Because there's an army on the way here,” Dick said and Jason stared at him. “And we're trying to unite the city against it.”

 

“It's the warlords isn't it?” Roman crooned. “Like my father was, they're finally fed up with you being the fly in their bonnets and they're on the way to take you out.”

 

“One of them,” Dick said. “Not plural. He thinks he's more then enough.” Dick paused and Roman opened his mouth, to gloat again when Dick kept talking. “Of course, I can't see them being too impressed with you. Son of the old warlord, unable to gather his father's followers, in fact, openly _mocked_ by most of them for years, and unable to retake the city despite your illustrious blood line.” Roman glared and opened his mouth again, Dick breezing right past whatever else he was about to say. “Do you think Lex Luthor will accept you and place you up in that position you always wanted? Or will he squash you like a bug for failing at everything you set out to do.”

 

“I'll kill you before he gets here, how about that?” Roman asked and Dick started to say something else when he heard a sound. Dropping slightly, he looked around as Roman's bodyguards emerged from the darkness around them.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Roman said. “Did you expect me to come alone?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to figure out a way to reference Roman as Black Mask in this au and the grease paint/ashes seemed like a way to make it work (and also make me think of the days when this was more obviously a Mad Max Fury Road au). Except it also smacks a little of black face (Which to be honest Roman always has?) and I just want to be very clear I'm totally against black face. But Roman is also a character horrible enough to not care about the implications and you should want to punch him in the face anyway.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels way longer than a week since I last updated. On the other hand a week is a long time for this story.
> 
> The only thing more exhausting than moving is constantly having to change your move date. And work has been extremely emotionally exhausting lately, probably because I gave a whole month's notice instead of two weeks like I originally thought. On well. Tomorrow is my last day. Anyway. That's why this is coming to you so late. *Weak wave*

Jason looked from Roman to the figures advancing. “Seriously?” he asked and he heard Dick sigh beside him. 

 

“What, you don't like a fight any more, Todd?” Roman called down.

 

“I'd rather fight you yourself, you fucker,” Jason growled and Dick's hands were on the escrima sticks he had happily picked up from his room upon their return. But he still had not pulled them from their hooks on his legs. 

 

“Or we could not fight at all,” Dick said.

 

“You honestly think that's an option?” Roman asked. “Grayson, I expect better from you, I mean, idealist or not.”

 

“And the whole destruction of this city doesn't bother you at all?” Dick asked. “If we don't work together—”

 

Roman pulled out a beaten cigarette case that might once have been silver but had tarnished into something else. He struck a match against the side of it, and Dick fell silent as Roman dropped the match over the old fire escape. “Burn, baby, burn,” he said and Dick has his escrima sticks in his hands the next second, tense and ready when a bolt went streaking from the opposite roof. It embedded itself in Roman's shoulder, causing him to stagger back into the wall. 

 

Turning, Jason saw Helena standing on the other rooftop, her cross bow raised. 

 

“Roman,” she called. “I'm pretty sure I told you exactly what was going to happen if you came crawling around here again.”

 

Beneath them on the street, Jason and Dick looked at each other before focusing back on the confrontation unfolding in front of them. 

 

With a grunt, Roman yanked the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder, earning a wince from Dick. “You bitch,” he snarled, Helena looking at him serenely at the insult. “You're a fucking traitor to both our families.”

 

“It helps me not feel bad when they're dead,” Helena said. “And horrible people to begin with.”

 

Roman snarled. “I want them all dead,” he said and Helena shook her head, almost looking sad for a second before the whole alleyway erupted into bright light. Jason threw himself at Dick, who was already crouching down low, sending them both tumbling over to avoid whatever was happening. 

 

There were several screams followed quickly by the sounds of fighting and Dick rolled gracefully, popping back to his feet as he and Jason fled to the nearest side street, out of the direct line of the bright lights. 

 

“What is that?” Jason asked. 

 

“Not sure,” Dick said, dispatching the bodyguard that appeared in front of them with a well placed blow, knocking them out cold. “But Helena certainly has a grip on her territory.”

 

“Are we staying to see how this plays out or just hoping she shows up tomorrow morning?” Jason asked and Dick looked at him sideways. 

 

“No need,” Helena said, appearing beside them suddenly. “It's already more or less over.”

 

“You're quite effective,” Jason said, arching a brow.

 

“It's my territory,” she replied, something harsh in her voice. “I protect it. I haven't had much help from anywhere else in the city.”

 

Dick closed his eyes and nodded. “No, you haven't,” he agreed. “But we'll change that.”

 

“You don't have to keep plying me with promises and pretty words, Dick,” she replied. “Roman ran off, though.”

 

“With our luck, he'll already be speaking to the Joker,” Jason said.

 

“We still haven't figured out where he's hiding,” Dick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's not good, turning your back to one enemy to fight the other.”

 

“But you've already done more to protect your back than Wayne ever has,” Helena said, and there was still the sound of some fighting behind them, Helena's people against Roman's remaining guards. “I'll see you in the morning.”

 

“Yeah,” Dick agreed. “Be safe.”

 

Helena flashed him a smile, “Don't worry about me.”

 

-0-

 

“What's the word on Selina?” Dick asked, walking in the door and Barbara simply gave him a long suffering look. “That good, huh?” he asked.

 

“Bruce is still hopeful,” she replied. “Cass, much less so.”

 

“Are Tim and Damian back?” Dick asked. 

 

“Yeah,” she said, already turning back to the map. “How about you, any luck?”

 

“Helena will help us,” Dick said. “And all those under her. Who seem to be pretty effective. To no one's surprise, Roman will not.”

 

Barbara froze for a second, looking over her shoulder at him. “Roman?”

 

“Helena scared him off,” Jason said, stretching out his shoulders and Barbara stared for a while too long at the guns hanging off his belt. 

 

“Good of her,” she said. 

 

“Everyone is gathering tomorrow morning,” Dick reaffirmed. 

 

“Just in time,” Barbara replied, with a nod.

 

“Than we should get some rest,” Dick said and Barbara was still watching him, some communication passing between their expressions that Jason did not understand. “You too,” Dick added and Barbara gave him a curt nod. 

 

When Dick left, Jason followed him. 

 

“You know,” Jason said as they walked down the steps to the sleeping quarters, Dick holding a candle to light their way. “No one has said anything.”

 

Dick's eyes flickered back to him and he wasn't quite smiling in the dim light. “Do you want them too?” he asked. “I thought you would be bothered by the idea.”

 

“I'm as bothered by them confronting your or me as I am by the idea it simply doesn't matter,” Jason muttered and Dick twined their fingers together. 

 

“It matters,” he said. “Not just to me, but to them. Barbara certainly hasn't approved of you yet, not like this.”

 

“And the others?” Jason asked, because Dick could pick up with a look or a significant silence what the others meant. Jason was out of practice for being gone so long. 

 

“I think they're just waiting,” Dick said as they reached the bottom. “To figure it out and how they feel about it. We're all distracted right now.”

 

Jason snorted. “Distracted, right.”

 

“And I think they want you to stay too,” Dick said, looking up at him. “So they're trying not to scare you away, with recrimination or congratulations.” 

 

“Sure,” Jason said. “Except that's your wishful thinking.”

 

“Maybe,” Dick said and smiled, the first real smile just for Jason in days and he reached out, wrapped his hands around Dick's waist and holding on. “Maybe it is wistful thinking. Maybe it's what I want to see.”

 

“And you don't want to scare me away,” Jason said, almost joking and Dick's face fell for a moment too long before the corners of his mouth twitched up.

 

“I don't want to scare you away,” he agreed, and held the candle carefully away when Jason bent down to kiss him, one hand still on his waist and the other moving up to hold his lower back. Dick tilted into the kiss, his free hand covering Jason's shoulder blade and his teeth scrapping along his bottom lip. 

 

“But you're not going to say you want me to stay,” Jason said when he pulled back.

 

“I know better,” Dick said softly. “You know what I want by now.” 

 

Jason kissed him again, quick and brutal before pulling back. “Damian isn't going to try and claim your bed again, is he?”

 

Dick opened his mouth, and Jason felt bad for a second for even subtly asking Dick to chose between them, before Dick's mouth curled into a smile. 

 

“I think he'll hopefully have his own problems tonight,” Dick said and Jason almost shoved him through the door of his room, allowing his tight reign on his desperation to loosen. Dick fumbled with the candle, getting it set down firmly on a crate and shoving his door closed. As soon as he had both hands, he threw them around Jason's neck, jumping up to wrap his legs around his waist. 

 

Barking out a short laugh, Jason caught him. 

 

“We really should rest,” Dick said, smearing kisses across Jason's mouth. 

 

“We will,” Jason promised, pulling him tighter and watching Dick arch against him, one long line in the candlelight. 

 

“But only after thoroughly exhausting ourselves,” Dick said with a wicked smile.

 

“Damn straight,” Jason agreed and kissed him again, swallowing Dick's gasps and holding him tighter in midair. 

 

-0-

 

For a moment it seemed like things were getting off to a good start. 

 

Helena had been the first to arrive, with a small contingent of her followers. Cobblepot had been next, and Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane had slunk into the back together as if hoping to avoid anyone actually noticing them.

 

“I assume of course you have some sort of plan,” Cobblepot said, hands crossed over the top of his cane as he stood in the middle of the room, small eyes darting every which way the whole time.

 

“I would like to thank you for the use of your map,” Barbara said. “It has been invaluable in formulating a strategy.”

 

“Which I presume we'll hear at some point?” Cobblepot asked, as Jason prowled back and forth in front of the back door, restless in the face of so many enemies crammed into the foyer of the town hall. Dick sat on the steps, Steph doing the same several steps above him. 

 

Barbara stared at him, until he settled slightly. “Yes,” she said. “But I would hate to explain it twice.”

 

“Are we expecting more people?” Edward asked, and then shrank down at having spoken.

 

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, standing in the doorway to his office. 

 

“I'm surprised there's anyone else willing to give up so much for such vague promises,” Helena said and Dick briefly closed his eyes. 

 

“Were they vague?” Damian asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs and non too subtly between Dick and anyone else. 

 

Helena narrowed his eye at him as the door opened again, Cassandra stepping back to allow Waylon Jones entrance. There was a moment of stunned silence. 

 

“I can't,” Jonathan said suddenly. “I'm sorry Edward but there is no way—”

 

“You can't work with me?” Waylon asked, something sharp in the smile he was giving the other man, and Jonathan tensed. “Still sore?”

 

“Sore?” Jonathan hissed. 

 

Dick was on his feet, appearing between the two of them, which meant Damian was in the same position. “We have all had our differences,” Dick started. 

 

“Is that what you call it?” Jonathan asked. “When a man is more a monster, when he tore my _face apart—_ ”

 

“It wasn't a very pretty face either way,” Waylon said and Dick's eyes darted over to him for an angry second. 

 

“There is nothing that would convince me to work with him—” Jonathan said. 

 

“It's not just about us,” Edward said softly behind him.

 

“Or anyone here,” Jonathan finished. “None of us have ever been allies, we have never gotten along. How do you expect us to fight together.”

 

“Because it's about—” Dick started. 

 

“All of us, you've said,” Jonathan snapped, and Cobblepot stood still in the middle of the room, his knuckles obviously white from gripping the cane. 

 

“It is about Gotham,” Dick said. 

 

“Not everyone shares your affection for a doomed city,” Jonathan said. “Not enough for—” and he broke off again when the door slammed open, Cassandra jumping back and already on the defensive. 

 

“This looks like a cosy gathering,” Pamela said, stepping through and shoving the door closed behind her. 

 


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, guess who's not dead?
> 
> This was the longest time between updates so far I'm sorry! Stuff happened and then I got knocked over with way too many Star Wars feels (the worst kind the WORST KIND) but I'm back! And trying to finish this!
> 
> It is shocking that after almost a month, writing this story feels like slipping into that skin again, like, I wrote this one for so long and became so invested it's way less hard to pick up the threads and keep going then I was expecting. Which is great. Cheers y'all.

“Cosy isn't the word I would come up with,” Jason said, the first to react. Dick still stood between Waylon and Jonathan, his hands spread out to keep them apart, staring at Pamela with an expression caught between shock and wary anger.

 

“Pamela,” he greeted, recovering second. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

 

“And I didn't expect to see you alive again after we were attacked in the desert,” Pamela said and Bruce's entire posture had tightened in rage. “All things considered you're looking well.”

 

“Nice to see you made it back to the city yourself,” Dick said dryly. “Last I saw you were being shot at.”

 

“I stole one of their bikes,” Pamela said. “Lost track of Zsisz—”

 

“Don't worry, we found him,” Jason said dryly.

 

Pamela blinked at him and than nodded. “And returned to the city. Last time I saw you, you were riding into gunfire.”

 

“Took a longer route home,” Dick grit out and she stared at him, eyes tracking up and down. Not all the changes were visible, but they shared a moment of understanding that he had suffered because of her.

 

“It must have been some route,” she said, and Bruce's shoulders had become a hard line of tension.

 

“What can we do for you, Pamela?” he asked, and Damian had shifted just enough to be between Dick and Pamela. Dick put his hand on his shoulder, both as acknowledgment and to shove him away if he needed to.

 

Pamela's mouth twisted and she focused on Bruce. “I'm certain you've heard the Joker—”

 

“Has gone madder than usual?” Bruce asked. “Last I saw, you were breaking him out of here. Funny how this might not _be_ an issue if you had left that alone.”

 

“Oh, yes, breaking a man's spine and locking him up is the proper solution to this,” Pamela said, and several eyes slid over to Bruce, as if the reminder of what he had done made it all the more real. As if they had forgotten for a moment to deal with him.

 

“Better than letting him run wild in wanton destruction,” Bruce said, and Waylon and Cobblepot both shifted to move away from him. Jonathan's arm was held by Edward and neither of them moved.

 

“Right,” Pamela said.

 

“But as ever you were doing it for Harley,” Helena said, lounging against the wall.

 

Pamela closed her eyes before opening them again. “Yes.”

 

“And she loves that madman,” Helena added, as if anyone wasn't already totally aware.

 

“And I would do anything for her, including rescuing him,” Pamela said. “Yet somehow I did not expect him to—no, I did expect him to be even madder. Angry as fuck and crazier.” She shook her head, meeting Bruce's eyes. “You did everything wrong.”

 

“Only if one foresaw this,” Bruce said.

 

“No,” Pamela said. “You did _everything_ wrong from leaving us alive in the first place.”

 

Bruce's hands tightened and Dick's eyes darted from him to Pamela and back. “A mistake I'm constantly paying for.”

 

“But you're a martyr and willing to pay it,” she sneered. “We're all your cross to bear and now you have to ask us for help.”

 

“Are you offering to give it?” Bruce asked.

 

“If we have any hope of rebuilding,” she said after a beat. “Then yes, you have my help for the time being. When the dust settles and we find out who is alive, we'll have to see what comes of it.”

 

“And you're doing this for Harley,” Selina said, strolling in the door and not looking at Bruce. She flicked her fingers on some stray imaginary dust on her shoulder and looked around the room. “Oh, did we get started already?”

 

Dick rocked back on his heels and then forward again. “Selina,” he greeted, Holly poking around from behind her. “Glad you could make it.”

 

“Oh, I'm sure _you_ are,” she said and something in Bruce's posture had sagged but he otherwise did not move.

 

“I do assume at some point we'll actually start planning?” Cobblepot said from the near center of the room. “Not that it isn't lovely to see you, Selina, of course.”

 

“Always a charm, Oswald,” she said with a tight smile.

 

Dick met Bruce's eyes across the room and he almost gave him a smile before gesturing into Bruce's office. “If you will? You're right, it is time to start planning.”

 

-0-

 

Lex Luthor entered Gotham, unsure if he should be impressed or appalled.

 

Either way, it was not what he had expected. Gotham was a crumbling ruin held together by sheer willpower and desperation, hardly the Utopian vision of a well run city. He tried to match the ruins up with Bruce Wayne, and what the boy had looked like and said when he came to Metropolis all those years ago.

 

“We might not have to destroy the place if we could only show the world what it looked like,” he remarked, and finally stepped foot across the threshold of the city that held his imagination and fears and dreams for decades. “Look at it. Who would fear any man who ran this city? He is not a warlord and he's produced nothing else in it's place.”

 

Clark's eyes were shadowed. “It does seem to be barely standing,” he agreed after a beat. His arms were crossed, and his eyes moved slowly to take in the high and narrow buildings next to them.

 

“What a decrepit place,” Luthor remarked, more to himself for once than to Clark, his favorite to show his genius off to.

 

“It would be a good place to set up an ambush,” Clark remarked.

 

Luthor huffed. “If they knew too—” he started as there was a sound down one of the nearby alleys. Turning his head, he gestured for several of his guards to get between him and whatever was in that alley.

 

A slender form, followed by a few others came out of the darkness. “Well, you didn't come at night, that's wise.”

 

“Excuse me?” Luthor asked, and bright eyes were looking at him from behind a black smeared face. Luthor wanted to take a step back in revulsion from even guessing what covered the man's face.

 

“Gotham,” the man gestured. “You're not stupid enough to come at night, that's something.”

 

“Do you have anything more helpful to add?” Luthor asked, raising his hand and making a quick gesture, a notice to his guards. Clark was looking between him and the newcomer.

 

“You might remember my father, Sionis,” the man said. “Before his untimely demise.” His eyes looked like they were blazing and Luthor wondered how many enemies Bruce Wayne had let survive. Or if only their kids had made it through the purges.

 

He would have made sure to hunt down the entire bloodline.

 

“I recall,” Luthor said and he thought there was a smile hiding behind all that black.

 

“Well, I hate to tell you,” the man in front of him continued. “But they know you're coming.” He gestured back toward the city. “They're waiting for you already.” He was certainly smiling now, his teeth too bright against his face.

 

“And you want to be, what, my guide?” Luthor asked.

 

The man shrugged, shifting in place like standing still for this long was too much for him. Luthor was fairly certain he was unhinged. “You'll need one,” he said. “To get through this maze. What do you want to do most? Kill Wayne? Burn it down?”

 

“I can find my way using brute force,” he replied.

 

The man laughed, actually throwing his head back and practically howling. “That's not how Gotham works,” he said. “You can't cut her with brute force, she won't allow it.”

 

“Lovely,” Luthor said and then twitched his fingers through the air. Before Sionis could react, Luthor's guards shot down his own small contingent of bodyguards. “You don't happen to have any more hiding out somewhere do you?” Luthor asked mildly.

 

Eyes bugging out of the black paint, Sionis hissed at him. “How dare—”

 

“I'm here to take your whole city,” Luthor replied mildly. “Why would I care for your comfort? Either show me or join them.”

 

The man in front of him seemed to actually consider before he laughed, spreading his arms out. “Didn't I already prove which one that is?”

 

“You might want to be more blunt,” Luthor said. “I don't have time to play games.”

 

“Let me show you Gotham,” Sionis said.

 

-0-

 

“Jason,” Bruce called and Jason almost kept walking. It seemed easier.

 

“We don't have time for this, Bruce,” he settled for instead, checking that the rifle he held was loaded, and then checking the ammunition he had strapped to his waist.

 

“We might not have time for it again,” Bruce said, his voice a low deep rumble.

 

“Shouldn't you be, I don't know, sucking up to Selina for actually coming?” Jason said, and he hadn't looked up yet from his check. Bruce's hand came up to cover his, to stop him and force him to pay attention.

 

Jason jerked back, putting several more steps between them. “Don't you fucking dare.”

 

“Jason,” Bruce said, and his gravely voice just had no right to sound so lost.

 

“I don't want to hear it,” Jason decided.

 

“You don't know what I'm going to say,” Bruce returned.

 

“Oddly, I can guess,” Jason said.

 

“Can you?” Bruce asked, and Jason finally dared to look up. Where was Dick to act as a shield and distraction when you need him?

 

Bruce looked like he had aged twenty years since Jason had disappeared. It was a fourth of that time, and Jason refused to think about what exactly that meant. Now he was looking at Jason like Jason was an oasis. He wondered if this was how Dick always felt when Bruce looked at him, and he wanted to scream.

 

“Yeah,” he settled for finally. “I can take a guess. You want to lay things to rights, want to get it out there, tell me I'm a good soldier and thanks for getting Dick back, and maybe you disapprove of me fucking him, I don't really know how that goes, and that you want us to end on a good note considering we might die. But then again we ended on a great note the last time I supposedly died and look where that got us since then.”

 

Bruce stared at him. “I'm sorry,” he said and Jason recoiled like he had been slapped.

 

“Fucking don't,” he said.

 

“Isn't that what you wanted to hear?” Bruce asked. “That I'm sorry I gave up? That I should have kept looking for you until I burned Gotham and myself to ashes? That I'm sorry I let you down? That I'm sorry I never had the right words to fix this?”

 

“I don't fucking want you to apologize,” Jason said.

 

“Than what do you want me to do?” Bruce asked, taking a step forward and this time Jason didn't take one back.

 

“You know, are you so sure we should have stuck people like Waylon at the start of the fight?” he asked, obviously changing topics. “I mean, the most likely to turn—”

 

“Jason,” Bruce cut him off, and there was still so much command in his voice.

 

“I don't want this,” Jason ground out.

 

“What do you want?” Bruce asked.

 

“Nothing!” Jason yelled, poised to run. “I don't want a fucking thing from you! I can't bear to take anything from you, just let the ghost of you and me stay in it's damned _grave—_ ”

 

“I can't,” Bruce said, and his eyes were bottomless. “You mean too much to me.”

 

“Look,” Jason said. “I'm getting it, okay? Dick convinced me that he still cared about me. Took a while, but we're both bastards and tenacious when we want to be. I'm getting that he mourned me when I disappeared, that he feels bad about it. I'm getting that Tim was doing everything to fill a hole he was convinced he couldn't. I'm getting that. But that's taking me a fuck of a lot of time. I am not ready to forgive you yet and you have to live with that.”

 

“And die with it?” Bruce asked.

 

“If need be,” Jason growled, hoisting the rifle up and stomping away. He stopped after a few steps, tilting his head back without turning so Bruce could hear him. “I know our timing is awful. I know we're both probably gonna die. All you can have right now is that I'm trying.”

 

“Does it help that I'm trying too?” Bruce asked.

 

“Not really,” Jason said and left.

 


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember that Im moving thing? Finally happened so this update coming to you courtesy of Bluetooth and my phone so of there are formatting errors I'm gonna try and work on that. This is an experiment in process basically

Dick crouched on the crumbling rooftop next to Helena, heavy binoculars hanging around his neck as he looked over the city through them, watching Luthor's force advance. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he spotted Roman's distinctive black painted face.

“Who is it?” Helena asked, gesturing for him to hang over the binoculars. 

“Who else?” Dick said, handing them over. 

For a while she peered through them, her brows drawn low over the top of the metal. “They look like the expect a trap.”

“How far do you think we should draw them in until they stop expecting it?” Dick asked, his tone falsely casual. 

“Not sure they'd ever fall for it,” she said, as Dick's ear piece received a short message from Tim, halfway around the other side of town, watching the same advance from a different angle. 

Dick nodded and sent a message back to Tim to keep holding the line before sending another to Damian to tell Edward and Jonathan to start moving forward. When he looked up again it was to Helena giving him a considering look. “What?”

“Funny, isn't it,” she remarked, not really a question. “How Bruce's boys have become his little generals?”

“Whatever point you're making, I don't really have the time or inclination right now to deal with it,” Dick said, taking the binoculars back. 

“It's interesting is all,” Helena said. “Wayne has never built an army, just an elite.” Dick's eyes flickered to her and away. “Not that you aren't loyal that way,” she added.

Dick barely shook his head as they watched a building in the way of Luthor's group explode and start sliding downward toward them. Through the binoculars Dick could see the way Luthor stopped and leaned back, the soldiers directly around him scattering in fear. Dick spared a moment to wonder if any of them were the same soldiers that had traveled with him and Jason before squashing that thought.

“You can always count on Cobblepot to provide the quality explosives,” Helena remarked beside him. 

“As long as our main strategy isn't to destroy Gotham to save it,” Dick said, raising the binoculars again. 

“Just a little destruction,” Helena said with a wild grin, her hair flying in the wind that was blowing in from the desert. 

-0-

Jason paced back and forth, his eyes flickering to Waylon and Cobblepot every once and a while. 

“You're the one with the ear piece,” Cobblepot remarked finally. “Stop staring at me like I have the answers.” 

“I hate hearing and not being able to see what's happening,” Waylon said, surprising both Jason and Cobblepot who turned to stare at him. “A building just exploded, which means they're already inside the city.”

“I'm sure our time will come,” Jason said and Cobblepot snorted. 

“Yes, every piece arranged perfectly,” he said and Jason narrowed his eyes at him.

“No small part of this was your idea,” he reminded, holding a hand to his ear to cup it when the piece went off, a message from Barbara and a reply from Dick. Somehow even hearing the tiny sound of Dick's Morse Code made him feel better. It meant Dick was up high and watching the battle to better run it, and it meant Dick was somewhere watching out for all of them.

-0-

Damian ran to keep up with Edward and Jonathan. “Is that was the Warlords taught you?” he yelled over the sound of gunfire behind them.

“No,” Edward called over his shoulder because their plan had worked a little too well, and had drawn too many of the attackers after them into the twisting alley ways of Gotham's old slums. “They had all the power, right?” 

“Which means this guerrilla survival is more from your father,” Jonathan said, out of breath and starting to fall behind. Edward actually stopped so he could turn around, taking Jonathan's elbow and urging him forward. 

“My father never shot at you,” Damian protested as they turned around corner. Without another word, they threw themselves sideways so that the people behind the hastily constructed barrier could shoot at the soldiers who had been chasing them down the street. Damian pushed himself back up, blinking in surprise that the strategy worked. 

Edward picked himself back up, checking on Jonathan before looking back at Damian. “Sure,” he agreed. “He might not have shot at us, but surviving here wasn't easy.” 

Damian ignored him, already going to the people behind the barricade. “What is this?” he demanded. 

For a moment they collectively stared at him, and it felt familiar enough he almost relaxed before one of them stepped forward and their sullen expressions warped in front of his eyes to determined. “Why would we not fight for our own homes?”

“Because you never have before,” Damian said.

“Our homes and your family are not the same things,” the leader said, Jonathan and Edward approaching from behind Damian to listen. 

“You're the ones who let the warlords rule here too,” Damian said. “Who believed Dent and his empty words, who—”

“We aren't doing this for you,” the leader cut him off. “We're doing it because Helena promised us aid at the end of this. Because this is our home and,” her eyes cut from Damian to Edward and Jonathan. “Home grown madmen are different from invaders.”

Jonathan wilted slightly but Edward's spine only straightened more, and his smile was full of rage. 

Damian blinked before he straightened his spine. “We still have work to do,” he snapped, hearing yelling coming from down the block, and hearing his ear piece sputter back into life. 

“After you,” Edward said, gesturing with one long arm, his smile still frozen. 

Damian looked between him and the barricade before taking off down the alley.

-0-

Sitting on the roof of the old city hall, Stephanie had a pair of binoculars that were as heavy and old as Dick's in her hands. “They're coming down where we wanted them to,” she said, Barbara behind her and the map spread out on a rickety table that Jason and Dick had brought up for them before leaving.

“It's still too early to become confident,” Barbara said, reaching up to send another message over the ear piece, Dick and Bruce both replying. 

“I'm not trying to be over confident,” Stephanie protested, fingers itching to check on Cassandra, who had been avoiding her since her injury. Stephanie's mind skittered over the real reason and tried not to dwell on the brief sensations she had felt. Tried not to think about the way Cassandra's eyes were too wide, and the way she shrank back, her body language too loud. 

Now all Stephanie wanted was to make sure she was still breathing and safe somewhere out there. Dust still rose from the building that had collapsed, blocking Luthor's way forward.

She curled her fingers around the binoculars, ignoring the fact they ached and had long since gone white.

-0-

“Divide and conquer, hm?” Selina asked, perched behind Bruce. He was used to Cassandra in the position directly behind his back, but this time Selina had taken up there, forcing Cassandra to stand to the side, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. 

“Something like that,” he agreed, a hunting rifle in his hands. It was old, but still in working order and had the sighting scope.

“Your boys would be disappointed to see you now,” Selina said, and Cassandra narrowed her eyes at her, but did not comment on being excluded from the statement. Bruce however caught the tiny change on her face and wished he knew a way to reach out and make things better for any of his children. Wished he knew what to say to sooth them. 

Instead he shrugged, bracing the rifle on the parapet and using the sighting scope to consider Luthor's progress. “Perhaps,” was all he said. 

“Oh yes, I forgot,” Selina said. “This is the new Bruce, whose dirty secrets were aired to the next generation.”

“You know,” Bruce said, not raising to her bait obviously, his tone even and almost disinterested. “Dick always knew.”

Selina paused at that and Cassandra tensed in some form of betrayal. “Your golden boy knew you were a murderer?” Selina asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “I know you and I never agreed again after—”

“Of course we never agreed!” Selina snapped. “Instead of being a strong ruler that Gotham needed to rebuild you took the weakest way out! You became a coward holed up in your hall and reigning over a city that ignored you. You actively rejected anyone who wanted to change this city for the better, to actually make good on any of your damned promises and then were surprised and wounded when the city did not accept you back with open arms.”

Bruce glanced over at Cassandra who looked half shocked and half intrigued. Her eyes flickered over and it was clear she agreed with Selina. 

Bruce cleared his throat, focusing on Selina again, looking over his shoulder. “Be that as it may,” he said. “I am sorry for how things turned out.”

Selina's face twisted. “Honey, I may have had too much affection for you once, but this isn't even about us anymore. I don't want your apologies.”

Bruce shrugged, listening to the chatter over the ear pieces. It was dramatically more than he had ever heard before and he was starting to worry that the rudimentary technology would crash under the strain. Much like he worried about his city.

-0-

Deep on the other side of the city Pamela ducked into what once was a sewer and now was an empty and thankfully dry tunnel. She resisted the urge from looking over her should too many times, focusing instead on the path in front of her with no lights. 

Finally she came out from the twisting tunnel into a larger room that once might have been a subway station and had since been turned into the Joker's favorite haunt. There were strange lights strung up at the top of the ceiling, giving off a purple glow and hooked to a creaking and clanking generator. It was a decadent luxury Pamela had never understood and the lights gave her a headache. 

But that barely phased her this time, heading straight for where Harley sat, head tilted back against the wall and her hands in her lap. “Harley,” Pamela said. 

“Can you hear the battle?” Harley asked.

“Yes,” Pamela replied. “Topside has become chaos.” Pamela was too focused on Harley to wonder at the comparative calm underground. “We should get out of here.”

“Here?” Harley asked, finally seeming to focus on her and all at once Pamela realized she had been drugged—or had chosen to lose her faculties. Pamela's hands clenched in rage and she reached forward, steadying Harley. “We shouldn't leave here, here is good, here is our place.”

“We can find a new one,” Pamela said. 

“Don't wanna leave puddin',” Harley said and as usual Pamela winced at the endearment. 

“Pudding isn't his best right now,” she said. “We'll come back for him, promise.” 

“No we won't,” Harley said. “Don't think I don't,” and she trailed off, one hand swaying in the air. 

“Now is not the time for this,” Pamela growled, reaching forward to heft Harley up. The feeling of displaced air behind her was the only warning she had before her head exploded into pain. Collapsing she rolled over, wondering how the Joker had sneaked up her so silently in his wheelchair. 

But that didn't mean she had the time to block the next blow from the old heavy bat, and she blacked out to the sound of Harley screaming.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming at you from my phone again woo woo

Every time they turned around in this city it seemed like another group came out of the woodwork to attack and separate them. 

It made Clark want to laugh at the sheer absurdity but Lex was only becoming more and more furious. Not at the death of any of his soldiers, of course, deaths that made Clark cringe and wish he had the authority to call a retreat. But because someone was outwitting him and he was still low on the ground when they were obviously above.

Clark passed another barricade and tried not to look down at the corpses of the defenders there. The defense was more systematic than he had expected and it made his stomach twist up and ache to think of Bruce. 

Bruce, who last time he had heard had allowed Gotham to fall apart, too wrapped up in his own fear and rage to pay attention to his city. Bruce who had once had the most winning smile and too many dreams to fit into any one head. Bruce who had once trusted Clark enough to tell him of those dreams, of his plans before he dared to act any of them out, and who had sneered at Clark the last time they met. 

Bruce, who had taken a child in and was training him to fight the way Bruce had been taken in by the warlord and molded into the image they wanted for him. 

Bruce, who Clark had fought with and who had caused Clark to leave, wrapping his own dreams and rebellion into the subservience that allowed him to survive. 

Even having helped Dick Grayson escape Metropolis, and realizing that maybe neither he nor Bruce were as lost as he sometimes feared, this was still not the Gotham Clark had been expecting. 

There was a commotion further up the road, another cave in from an old building. “Gotham cannot be this unstable on its own,” Lex growled. “They knew we were coming. We're being channeled where they want. When I find that Grayson I'm going to tear his eyes out and feed them to him.” 

“You could never guarantee this attack would remain a secret,” Clark said mildly. “Even if they hadn't escaped and perhaps survived long enough to reach here.”

Lex growled something and Clark was too busy trying to keep as many of their soldiers alive as possible to really pay it any head. Because across the street he saw a flash, and thought he recognized Jason Todd leading a merry chase down the next alley, an angry grin thrown over his shoulder and a hulk of a man beside him. 

“This is a waste of time,” Lex said suddenly and Clark startled, focusing quickly on him. 

“We are trying to move an army through a city—” Clark started.

“Exactly,” Lex said and pointed upward. “Where would you be?”

Clark's eyes drifted up and over, catching a glint of something on one of the rooftops, that might have been metal debris left out in the sun too long. Or it might have been someone watching them. He felt his stomach turn over. “Up high,” he whispered because he had spent too many years not giving Luthor any reason to suspect him to stop now. 

“Yes,” Lex agreed, with a predatory grin.

-0-

Damian's ears were ringing with the sound of an explosion and he pushed himself up on his elbows from where he had fallen over. Checking his ear piece with a spike of panic, he realized it was still somehow still working as Tim's constant demands for an update slowly came through past the ringing. 

Damian refused to dwell for a moment on the way he felt warm at hearing Tim's code repeated over and over, in what could only be described as a frantic manner. He quickly tapped back a quick reply before staggering up to his knees and then his feet. “Crane, Nygma,” he called, looking around. For a moment only silence answered him before he heard a low cry that sounded an awful lot like Edward's voice. 

“Answer me, damnit,” Damian hissed because they had not been expecting any of Luthor's soldiers to carry grenades. 

Their mistake. 

There was another sound before Edward finally spoke, buried somewhere beneath a fallen beam. “Sorry,” he said and Damian staggered over to where his voice came from, bracing himself on the debris. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, like he cared and perhaps he was staring to.

For a second there was silence before Edward gave a heavy sigh, almost a sob. “It's relative,” he said. “My leg's fucked I'm not sure I can walk let alone run.”

“Can you get out of there?” Damian demanded.

“Might as well not, you see,” Edward said weakly back. 

Damian restrained the urge to growl. So far the three of them had been leading what soldiers they could on a merry chase, and it had given him the kernels of respect for both of them. “What about Crane?” he asked, hands clenching against the stone and wood separating them. 

There was a gurgling laugh in reply and that was honestly all the answer Damian really needed. “Down here with me,” Edward said and there was just desolation in his voice. Damian pounded his fist against the stone in front of him before he accepted that. 

“So you're giving up?”

“I can't help you anymore,” Edward said. 

“Than try not to get yourself killed too,” Damian snarled because this was why it was always easier to respect no one except his mother and father and maybe Grayson. It always turned around too fast and left him feeling like he had been wounded without a scratch on him.

Before Edward could say anything else he was running again, tapping a quick update that he was alone into the ear piece. 

Almost instantly Barbara and Tim tried to reply, their messages overlapping and garbling both of them. While they were trying to sort that out, Grayson's code came through, clearing the channel. 

Grayson at least did not try to tell him to be careful, but simply to meet up with Jason and continue strewing chaos among the soldiers. With an angry smile Damian pushed himself to run just that much faster.

-0-

Everyone was stretched across the whole city, which is why Dick and Helena were alone on the roof except for one of Helena's people. Dick was focused on the binoculars, watching where he thought Damian was and missed the small group peeling off from the main thrust of Luthor's forces. There was no attacks that would have forced them in that direction. By the time he turned his attention there again they were long gone. 

“Do you think it's working?” Helena asked, shading her eyes against the rising sun that beat down on the city. 

“I don't know,” Dick admitted, and he heard a report come in from Bruce, another from Barbara who was tracking what she heard on the map, trying to direct them with Stephanie's help. 

Helena opened her mouth to say something else when a shot rang out and they had enough time to turn around to see their guard fall to the ground with a hole between her eyes. Helena launched herself forward before she could even see their attackers and Dick's hands were full of the binoculars still but he rolled, dropping them and springing to his feet in time to see a knife slash across Helena's face, blood flowing down. 

He threw the binoculars at her assailant's head, knocking them down as Luthor appeared at the edge of the roof, flanked by his guards and grinning.

“I thought a bird like you would fly up high,” Luthor said. “It fits in with your no killing thing doesn't it?” 

Dick tensed half poised like he might throw himself off the roof and figure out how to catch himself half way down. “I don't know,” he said, trying to gauge at the same time how far Helena was and the gun her guard had been holding. Even if he had enough time to grab it, he was fairly certain he could only get a shot or two off before he would be taken out. “I might be willing to make an exception for you.”

Luthor laughed, and it sounded and felt so out of place. Dick's eyes were darting around as his guards advanced. “You should never have left yourself so exposed.”

Dick shrugged. “No one else remembers to look up,” he said, forcing his voice to be casual. 

On the roof, Helena groaned, shifting but remaining down. Dick wasn't sure if she kept her eyes closed to pretend she was still out, or if she actually was. In the next moment he couldn't spare a thought for it because they attacked him at once except Luthor. 

He kicked out, shattering one of their noses and for a second it seemed like he might hold them back before a lucky blow landed on his temple and he staggered, disoriented long enough for them to grab him. Two of Luthor's guards had him by either arm and he twisted his body, almost managing to break their grip.

Instead he was forced down to his knees in front of Luthor. 

“I honestly like this more than last time,” Luthor said, cupping his elbow with one hand and holding his chin in the other as he considered Dick. “Even without the collar.”

“Charming,” Dick ground out and Luthor leaned down, plucking his ear piece out of his ear. Dick winced, because his hair used to be long enough to hide it. 

“Oh, this is lovely,” Luthor said and listened as the clicks started to come through. Dick thought it was Barbara's code he heard first. “Morse Code?”

Dick bit his cheek and only stared at Luthor. 

“Ah, well,” Luthor said, dropping it again and crushing it under his boot. “Their panic is even better than trying to parse out their messages.”

“You seem to attach a lot of importance to me,” Dick said. 

“Ah, child,” Luthor laughed. “This is quite the position here. The hub of it all. We're all past that lie anyway.”

“I'm not,” Dick said and Luthor only laughed at him again.

-0-

Jason tapped a reply to Barbara's request, adding another message to Dick. He was standing on a fire escape, a breather between his and Waylon's attacks. 

There was a pause that lasted too long without a reply before he tapped a second message. 

When no reply to that one came through he stopped breathing as suddenly the piece exploded with messages from Barbara, Tim and Damian. They all stopped just as abruptly as they had been sent to give Dick time to reply.

Only there was nothing.

Tim's code came through first, demanding who was closest to Dick.

Damian and Jason both lied saying they were and Barbara frantically sent a message telling them both to stick to their tasks, but Jason was already swinging himself up on the escape and toward the roof, running from building to building.

Across the way he could already see Damian reach the rooftops too, and he thought he could hear Waylon roaring in rage down below him.

“I'm handling this,” he yelled, and Damian either didn't hear him or ignored him.

Jason still beat him to the roof where Dick had been positioned, and it was empty except for one corpse and the shattered remains of an ear piece. “He's not here!” he yelled to the sky as Damian skidded to a stop next to him.


	55. Chapter 55

Damian was the one who had enough presence of mind to let the others know through their ear pieces what had happened. For a moment too long there was stunned silence before everyone tried to talk over each other again.

Finally one message kept repeating, over and over with Bruce's code attached. 

Keep your positions.

“That fucking son of a,” Jason started to snarl and for once Damian didn't bristle at him and demand respect for his father. 

“Can he even see what our positions are?” 

Jason started to say something and his eyes were drawn to the city center where Selina's territory was. “I know where Luthor is taking him.”

“What?” Damian turned to stare at him. “What do you—how could you know that?”

“Because it's exactly what Luthor threatened,” Jason said and he took off, ignoring Bruce's orders completely. For a moment Damian hesitated behind him before following.

-0-

Pamela came to to the sound of Harley crooning something. For a moment her head spun too much too focus before she registered her head was resting on something warm and soft and realized it was Harley's lap. 

“He tried to kill you,” Harley said when Pamela shifted and hissed in pain. “Why'd he go and do a thing like that?”

“Why did he not succeed?” Pamela returned, her voice a low growl, as everything hurt.

“I stopped him,” Harley said, like it was that simple, like it was surprising in any way for her to say that. Pamela blinked, hoping Harley could not see her shock. 

“How,” she asked, rolling her head back to squint at Harley's face. 

Harley's pupils were still too wide, and the way she moved her hands proved too easily how drugged she still was. “Why did he want to kill you?” 

“Because I wanted to take you away from him,” Pamela said. The exact contours of her betrayal could wait. 

“Why?” 

“To protect you,” Pamela said and Harley frowned. 

“I love him,” she said. “I do, I do, he's been my world for a long time but I couldn't—I haven't—but I defied him because I couldn't let him hurt you. How could I do that? How could I—” and Pamela realized she was crying. “He's so weak now and I let him go alone.”

Pamela reached out to cup Harley's face and realized what she said. “Where did he go?” she asked. 

Harley shook her head and had to rest it against the wall when it made her dizzy. “I don't know,” she said. “But he said it was important and I left him alone because I couldn't stand to let you hurt down here in the dark with no one else.” She was still crying and Pamela twisted around, touching the side of her face, wishing she could sit up without swooning. “I know he can take care of himself—I know you can too but—”

“Harley,” Pamela said softly. “Harley,” and she let Harley cry, hope fluttering in her breast that maybe this meant the next time she said they should run, Harley might listen to her. 

If she had an ear piece, she might have warned them she suspected where the Joker was going.

-0-

Clark held Dick with one arm, following Luthor. “So tell me,” Luthor said, not looking back at them or where Helena was slung over the back of one of his soldiers. “Where exactly is dear Brucie hiding now?”

“He's not hiding,” Dick said, bristling. “And it may have somehow escaped your notice but you're losing.” 

That caused Luthor to stop and turn around, narrowing his eyes at Dick. “Do you really think you're in a position to taunt me?”

Dick shrugged, grinning indolently at him. “Do you think you're in a position to threaten this city any more?”

“I admit,” Luthor said, stepping forward and Clark honestly wanted to take a step back, dragging Dick with him. “All my suspicions about Gotham were most wrong. I was certain the whole city would be content to let Bruce burn and yet here we are.”

“It's about our home, not Bruce,” Dick said. 

“But not for you.”

“I'm not Gotham,” Dick said and Luthor smiled, a sharp and angry expression. “And you should leave while you still can.”

“You think I would give up that easily?” Luthor demanded. “So I underestimated Gotham. I can still burn its heart to the ground.”

“How poetic for a man like you,” Dick said and he had obviously braced himself for the punch to his face more than Clark had. “I thought you were more practical is all,” Dick said, and Clark could see him carefully using his tongue to check his teeth. 

“I certainly think I'll kill you in front of Bruce,” Luthor said and Clark hoped he didn't notice the way his hand tightened on Dick's arm. 

He even more hoped Luthor hadn't noticed Helena's eyes flutter open, and the way she used the fact she was in front of Dick to meet his eyes, jerking her head slightly and then shutting her eyes again, holding her body carefully limp.

-0-

“Jason!” Damian yelled out in warning as a dark figure slammed into Jason from an alleyway. Damian skidded to a stop to keep from tripping over them. 

“So my gambit might not have worked,” Roman hissed, his fingers digging into Jason's throat. “But I can still kill at least one of you—” 

“Like hell you could,” Damian said, striking out with his foot, and he heard one of Roman's ribs crack. 

In the same instant, Jason slammed his hands up, breaking Roman's nose and he howled in pain, thrown off Jason. 

“I have truly never liked you,” Jason snarled, rolling up into a crouch. “In fact, you've pissed me off almost more than anyone else in this fucking city.”

“Flattered,” Roman hissed through the blood flowing from his nose and streaking the oil and ash on his face. 

“You shouldn't be,” Jason said, elbowing Roman in the jaw and earning himself Roman's hands scratching at his eyes. Hissing, he jerked his head back and Damian tossed him the knife his mother had given him as a present so long ago in the desert, pride shining in her eyes 

For a second they were locked in battle, Damian trying to decide how best to intervene when there were sounds at the head of the alley and he turned in time to see Hugo Strange and Jervis Tetch flanked by several thugs.

“Ah,” he said and Jason turned, allowing Roman to land a blow on him. “So there's the ones we couldn't find or convince to our side.”

Strange laughed, and Tetch just kept smiling like he always did, the tattered remains of some strange hat on his head. “We would rather see all of Gotham burn down than help any of you,” Strange said.

“Yeah, charming,” Damian said and Roman threw himself on Jason again, Jason bracing himself and thrusting the knife forward, catching Roman in the throat with it. 

“Really never liked you,” Jason said and turned to stare at the others at the end of the alley, Damian's blood knife in his hand. “Now, I need you all to understand that you're standing between me and Dick Grayson and that is a fucking dangerous place to be right now. Or have you all just collectively decided not to give a fuck considering the state Gotham is in?”

Tetch spread out his arms. “What better time to strike at you?”

“Yeah, so that's not giving a fuck isn't it,” Jason said, tossing the knife back to Damian, and drawing his guns.

-0-

Tim had lost track of Damian and Dick, and vaguely he realized Jason as well. He looked from one side of his rooftop to the other, trying to decide whether to follow Bruce's order and hold the line, or to go after them. 

Finally he heard another beep on the ear piece, Barbara asking for an update which he quickly gave. 

After a moment another message came through from her, saying that Luthor's forces had more or less scattered in panic and disarray, and that though they still could not pin point where Luthor or Dick was, to pull back to the center.

Tim acknowledged and took a running leap off the roof on to the next one, trying not to look down in the alleys as he passed over them. There was new rubble and bodies in about half of the ones he passed and he did not go further down than the fire escape before swinging to the next buiding.

Gotham was on fire during the day light for once.

-0-

“Bruce!” Luthor thundered when they reached the square of the city center. Dick frowned, because somehow Luthor had known exactly where to look for him and exactly where to seek out Bruce, where he was hiding as the last major line of defense, the furthest away from Luthor's advance but the closest to the Joker's hide out. 

“You really have a good grasp on people, don't you?” Dick asked, still mocking and Luthor ignored him.

“Bruce!” he roared again. “I have your boy! Would you rather watch him die from a distance or let him see you first?”

Dick felt Clark tense and tapped out “wait” over and over in Morse Code on his arm until he was certain Clark actually understood it. Clark shook his head, a tiny motion and his face was pale with tension. Dick frowned, tapping the word out again, barely moving his fingers.

“Trust me,” he added in Morse Code and Clark frowned at him. Luthor was still yelling at the wall, gesturing back at Dick and Dick forced himself to focus on that again. 

“I could just—” Luthor started to say when Bruce appeared, dropping down from the second story window. 

“Ah,” Luthor said. “So there you are. Just a man, finally standing in front of me.”

“You hold a grudge a long time,” Bruce said.

“Well, it's as much as personal offense as the fact your very existence was quite annoying, as you were a constant threat to our world order.”

“What a lovely world order you created for yourselves,” Bruce mused, his eyes flickering to Dick and freezing too long on Clark. 

Dick almost wanted to ask about that story. 

“However,” Bruce said, clearing his throat and focusing back on Luthor. “You are going to let him go?”

“Am I?” Luthor asked. “After all this trouble I've taken, after everything and you think I'm not at least going to take this one thing away from you?” 

“No,” Bruce said and Luthor blinked. 

“And how exactly do you figure that?” 

"Because you still want to walk out of here alive."


	56. Chapter 56

At first Luthor just laughed.

No one moved until he stopped. 

“Is that how you think this is going to go?” Luthor asked. “Your threats hold no weight any more, Bruce. You're a wreck of the man you once could have been, hiding behind these ideals and your own fear. Your own city is running circles around you. Where's the strength, where's the hope that drove you down this mad path to begin with?”

“That's not what you came to Gotham to say,” Bruce said. 

Too many people were standing around watching their confrontation. Dick caught Helena's half open eyes again, barely tilting his chin up to where Cassandra was waiting hidden where Bruce had been before dropping down. 

“You're right,” Luthor said. “I came to destroy whatever you had left.” He gestured back toward Dick and everything started happening at once. 

Dick twisted, shoving his elbow brutally against Clark's ribs at the same time Helena flipped, catching her own captor off guard and getting his gun before he knew what had hit him. Cassandra's rifle went off, hitting Luthor in the shoulder as he threw himself to the ground and Selina dropped down, knives flashing as another guard dropped.

By the time Dick straightened, hoping Clark's cover was still as intact as he wanted it to be, Luthor had launched himself at Bruce, and they were grappling, despite Bruce's larger muscle mass. Bruce may have been built like a mountain, but Luthor wasn't a wilting flower and appeared used to using speed against bulk. 

Dick started in that direction the same time a blow hit him from behind. Rolling, his knee gave out when he tried to spring back up, the angle just barely off. It took him precious time to correct his balance and rise, another blow from the blunt weapon catching him in the stomach. Swallowing the pain he lashed out, not even caring who was attacking him. All his focus narrowed on how to counter the moves his opponent was making and how to best dispatch them to get to Bruce. 

Not so far away from him, Selina tossed a knife to him, and he caught it, wishing for his escrima sticks that were lost somewhere on a roof top. Any narrow length of wood would have done, but he saw none in the vicinity. 

By the time his opponent actually stayed down, the whole square was a seething mess of fighting, Cassandra trying to maintain her position above without hitting any of her allies. 

-0-

Barbara had given up on getting any reports from anyone except Tim. Her heart in her throat, she thought she could see him, hoping from roof to roof in the distance. 

Even so his next report caught her off guard, the beeps taking too long to translate. 

He told her that Gotham was fighting itself, and he had lost track of all of Luthor's army. 

Her eyes whipped over to Bruce's position, trying to get a message across to him or Cassandra and receiving only silence in return.

Where is the Joker? she sent back to Tim who said he had no idea. You're my only eyes in the sky, she tapped out, her fingers shaking and she had never felt more useless. The map was in shambles, and she no longer could update it or tell Stephanie which markers to move. You have to stay up there, she added, desperate not to lose all contact.

I'll try, was all she got back from Tim.

-0-

Dick and Helena had ended up fighting back to back, and Dick could feel Helena leaning on him slightly, even as she kept fighting, her stolen gun in her hands. She must have been woozy from the concussion but aside from Dick he was certain no else could tell.

There was a cry of pain that rose over the din of the last pitched fight and Dick was running before he even realized what he was running toward. Bruce had fallen, Luthor standing over him and Dick was too far away. He threw the knife but it was too far away too and it went wide, clattering uselessly to the ground and Clark was there, closer by far and Dick missed what happened next, caught around the neck by another of Luthor's favorite soldiers. 

When he got free, flipping the soldier and stomping down on their ribs, hearing them crack beneath his boot, too much had happened in those seconds he was distracted. Bruce was bleeding heavily from a cut across his forehead, trickling down the side of his face and Clark was sinking to the ground, cradling Luthor in his arms, a knife embedded in his chest.

“I'm sorry,” Clark said. He whispered the words, broken and hurt. “I'm sorry.”

“Traitor,” Luthor hissed at him, his breathing harsh. “All this time—” 

“I'm sorry,” Clark said again and Luthor said nothing more, his eyes angry even as his head lolled to the side. “I'm sorry.”

“Clark,” Bruce said and everything around them slowly started to still as people realized what happened. Selina looked impressed and Helena did not lower her gun for a second. Up above, Dick caught motion and glanced up enough to see Cassandra slowly tapping something in to her ear piece. But his attention was instantly back down to Bruce and Clark, Clark kneeling still with Luthor in his arms and Bruce swaying above him. 

There were so many emotions on Bruce's face Dick actually resented Clark for being able to get that much of a reaction. 

-0-

Jason was slammed into a wall, his head bouncing and stars exploding in front of his eyes. “This is why no one likes you,” he muttered, staggering and barely bringing his gun up enough to block the next blow from a knife in time.   
Basil Karlo smirked at him, a hulking and vicious man. But the next instant Damian came out of Jason's blindspot, a flying kick going to Basil's head. 

“Todd!” Damian yelled. “Stop being so pathetic. We don't have time for this, I should have just left you behind.”

“I saved your sorry ass from Tetch,” Jason growled, his head still spinning. 

“He got the jump on me,” Damian muttered, and kicked Basil in the head again to make sure he would stay down. 

“Well, you know,” Jason said and he staggered before he could figure out a rhythm, trying to keep up with Damian. “We haven't seen any of Luthor's soldiers.”

“It's mostly Gotham fighting now,” Damian said, as if he had already noticed that and Jason was stupid for not noticing. Jason scowled because his hurts were compounded on other hurts and his side was threatening to give way just as much as his head. He thought Damian's ear piece was still working, while his own had been crushed at some point, he thought when Basil had slammed his head into the wall. 

Maybe earlier.

“Do we even know where we're going?” he asked as Damian skidded around the next corner.

And like Jason has summoned it, there they were and Jason almost felt like the breath had been punched from his lungs. Because there Dick was below him, swaying but on his feet, Helena sitting with a gun in her lap and Bruce was still speaking to Clark who had left Luthor lying in the middle of the square, his arms crossed over his chest and looking like he was still holding himself together.

Almost everyone else had faded away already, Selina back on the roof with Cassandra and the soldiers who had survived in the alley over, waiting for Clark to finish with Bruce. Finally Clark nodded, and turned to walk away. 

“Dick!” Jason yelled and Dick whipped his head up and around, his eyes clearing and his posture relaxing as he smiled at Jason. It was like the sun coming out and Jason felt something ease. 

Luthor was dead and Dick wasn't.

Except suddenly Damian yelled beside him and Dick had been looking at Jason, not Bruce. Everyone for just that second had been looking at him.

The screaming, he realized, was a mix of Damian and Dick as the Joker flung himself out of the shadows. 

How long he had been there was anyone's guess, but he slammed a long knife, used for cooking an age ago, into Bruce's back. He was laughing, one arm wrapped around Bruce's neck and the other still holding the knife, twisting it into Bruce's back. 

-0-

If Dick had felt like he was too far away before, it was nothing like now. He knew he was screaming because his throat ached as he started to run, Helena springing back to her feet and catching herself on the wall.

Up top Selina roared in fury, jumping down but it was already too late too.

“We should go down together,” the Joker said, and Dick was there was Bruce twisted, throwing the Joker off his back and into the wall. Somehow, the Joker still seemed to come back from that, forcing himself back up. Dick realized he had fashioned some sort of braces for his legs, that at least allowed him more mobility than the chair, though they looked useless in any long term way. They were made of rusted metal.

He must have had just enough feeling left in his legs to make the whole contraption work. 

“Bruce,” Dick said, catching him but the Joker was laughing again, high pitched and Bruce was a dead weight in his arms, starting to sink down. 

“Gotham will burn itself to the ground,” the Joker crooned, holding a gun and Dick focused on him to realize with a start it was aimed at him.

“How?” Jason yelled, having moved closer and now in the square with the rest of them but further away, his own guns pointed at the Joker. For a second no one moved. 

“Because I told it to,” the Joker said.

“Who is left alive to burn it down?” Jason asked. “We hit up your lackeys on the way here, they're down. You've already lost.” 

“No,” the Joker decided after a moment and he fired, Dick and Bruce trying to shove each other out of the way at the same moment, but Bruce's bulk winning. He took the bullet with a grunt, toppling them both over. 

Jason fired at the same time, knocking the Joker down again. Staggering into the wall he touched the wound and his hands came away red. “No fair,” he said. “It was always supposed to be—” 

“I could care less,” Jason said, and shot him again between the eyes. 

Dick barely saw the whole exchange, caught underneath Bruce's weight and still trying to hold him up. “Bruce,” he said, “Bruce please—” and Selina was there, helping him lower Bruce to the ground. “Bruce,” Dick repeated, trying to find the bullet wound with his fingers, as if he could possibly do anything to stop the flow of blood or pull the bullet out. 

“Don't do this, Wayne,” Selina said and for a second Bruce flopped a hand at her with a faint smile before he focused his eyes back on Dick. For a second he gathered the will power to touch the tips of his fingers to Dick's cheek.

“Bruce,” Dick repeated and Bruce focused intently on his face before he closed his eyes. After a few more strained breaths he stopped entirely.

Dick realized he was screaming again when he heard the sound echo back to him.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only sorta sorry for all I've done.

Dick knew that all around him people were moving and talking, and he vaguely held one hand out when Damian pressed against his side, petting his hair. He even knew he was speaking, giving suggestions and orders without ever looking up or moving from where one of his arms was draped over Bruce's chest. 

He was cold now and still Dick did not move.

Finally the sun was setting on the other side of the crumbling towers and he looked up to find Tim standing there. He blinked, trying to process the change in light and the empty spaces around him. Damian was crouched on a staircase across the square, his arms folded over his knees and watching over Dick. On the other side of the square Helena also sat, cleaning the gun she had taken earlier that day and had not relinquished. 

“I thought you'd want to know,” Tim said and he was shaking slightly. There was blood on his hands and cuts around his forearms. “Jason left.”

Dick stared at him and even despite everything part of him wanted to laugh. He had hoped that Jason would at least take the time to tell him, or give him a goodbye kiss—and he hoped suddenly Jason hadn't done that and he hadn't noticed.

“Left?” he asked, his voice sounding rusty.

“Found his bike—or a bike, I don't know, somewhere in the city. He went out the South. I don't know what supplies he had but,” and Tim trailed off. 

For another long moment Dick stared at him before he held one of his arms out. 

Tim wavered, fighting with some part of him before he gave a choked cry and threw himself into Dick's half embrace, sinking to his knees. 

“I can't believe it,” he cried and Damian's head had snapped up, his mouth twisting. “I just—” 

And for the first time since Bruce had fallen, Dick finally lifted his arm, turning to wrap both his arms around Tim. He ignored the fact that he ached, and his arm had gone numb and was now filled with pins and needles. He ignored the dirt and blood on both of them, and let Tim sob into the circle of his arms. 

Sometime, when it had gotten dark, he started to cry too.

-0-

Barbara could remember feeling helpless plenty of times. When her father died. When her legs became too broken to hold her any more. Every time she listened to Dick out there in the city without her, every time Cassandra and Stephanie came back bloody and tired. 

When Harvey Dent had taken Stephanie in front of her and the Joker had escaped from the roof behind her back. 

But she felt like someone had carved out the hollow of her chest and absconded with everything she needed when Dick and Tim and Damian finally returned. They bore Bruce's body between them, Cassandra already having returned to give her the news and taken off into the night again. 

Helena trailed behind the other three, clearly not considering herself part of their group but as unwilling to let them traverse Gotham alone that night. 

Barbara figured it was better not to ask about Jason. When Dick sank to the ground in front of her, she cradled his head in her lap and stroked her fingers through his filthy hair. “Dick,” she murmured, voice catching. 

“I couldn't save him,” he said and Damian and Tim were looking at each other but not touching. “I was standing right there—” 

“Gotham is standing,” Barbara murmured. “You saved Gotham.” Her eyes flickered up, catching Helena's where she was standing on the bottom step of the City Hall and not entering. “We all did. That matters.”

“I know,” Dick breathed, a choked off sob. 

“He'd be proud of you,” Barbara said and had to swallow her own sobs. Dick shuddered all over and slowly lifted his head, his hands coming up to cup her face. He somehow managed a smile and she bowed her head. 

“He'd be proud of you too,” Dick murmured and they wrapped each other in their misery.

-0-

Cassandra was on the roof. She had roved all over the city, trying to outrun whatever was in her chest before settling back here. Any second she expected a tall form to be in the corner of her eyes. 

For so many years that form had been a constant, what she protected at all other costs. And somehow the Joker had slipped right past her.

“So you're not running,” and she jumped, turning to see Stephanie leaning her elbows on the rooftop, standing on the stairs. “And you don't blame yourself.”

Cassandra scowled and it took her too long to figure out the right words to reply. “Stop being ironic.”

“Is that what I'm being?” Stephanie asked, and her blonde hair was whipping around in the wind. It made a whole different part of Cassandra ache. 

“Yes,” she snapped, because she felt like a cornered, wounded animal. 

Stephanie sighed before pushing her way up the rest of the stairs, coming to a stop next to Cassandra who tensed but did not move away. Stephanie's heat was too welcomed and she hated how weak that made her.

“You know,” Stephanie said. “For all the time we've spent together, all the years where I've said, unironically, that you're the most important person in my life, I still don't really get you.”

“I'm not that complicated,” Cassandra said because at least she was not Jason, who she had seen fleeing the city. At least her circles always brought her home. 

“Yeah you are,” Stephanie said. “I mean, it was my fault for not—I didn't expect you to kiss me. But I really didn't expect you to run away afterwards and than stop pretending I existed.”

Cassandra winced. “That's not—That was never my intention.”

“Well, you know what they say about those,” and there was a full moon hanging over Gotham, lighting it up as there were few fires burning. It outlined Stephanie's face and turned her hair silver. Cassandra was having trouble breathing. “But you know what? Tonight's not really about that. If you need more time to—figure it out, and come back to me, I can wait. I can wait until you're ready to talk it over. I can swallow my own hurt and figure out why you thought that would be a good fucking idea.”

Cassandra winced. “Than what is tonight about?”

Stephanie looked down before tilting her head back toward Cassandra. “Honestly I'd really just like to be held right now and I think you might need something like that too.”

The flirty place, desperate to keep moving toward somewhere she did not know settled at those words. “Oh,” she said and when Stephanie held out her hands she sagged against her side. “Thank you.”

“I love you, you know,” Stephanie said, like it was a fact of life, unremarkable and Cassandra's breath caught. “Working out the kinks in my head about how, but I do. No matter what.”

“Okay,” Cassandra mumbled and it cost her to allow even that. To acknowledge someone cared about her. 

But for once it didn't hurt too much.

-0-

The next night Gotham lit up with fires. 

Clark had frowned at Dick and asked him if he really thought this was the best idea. Dick had leveled him with a look and informed him if he wanted to take Luthor's body back to Metropolis and dispose of him there that was his choice. 

But in Gotham there was really only one choice.

Damian had tried not to snicker during the whole exchange. There was nothing funny about it really, except the stubborn jut of Dick's chin and Clark's frown, as if he had never before encountered someone like Dick.

He probably hadn't because Damian was pretty sure Dick was unique. At least he hoped he was.

So now they stood, Dick holding a torch and his hands were not shaking. He looked nothing like he had the night before, except for the deep circles under his eyes. Helena and Clark also held torches and Damian was certain all across the city pyres were being lit. 

Standing beside him, Tim twined their fingers together, and Damian thought about the night before when they hadn't slept until dawn, too busy crying and eventually Tim had leaned over him and started kissing him, sloppy and wet and they had clung together like a life line. Those same fingers wrapped around his hand had been inside him the night before, coaxing him to forget for just a second what was happening. 

Damian had flipped Tim over afterwards and proceeded to do exactly the same thing to him, teasing him with just his fingers and feather light touches with his mouth. He liked to think he took what Tim did and kicked it up another level. Already he had some ideas of what else to try to take Tim apart. 

But even those thoughts and the feel of Tim's fingers were not enough to keep him from quaking when Dick lit Bruce's pyre, flames leaping up into the dark sky. 

It was like a symbol had been given and all across the city fires lit up, and for one night Damian was certain none of them were bonfires. The sheer number made his throat clog. 

It was easier to watch Luthor's pyre burn down than to watch his father turn to ashes. Even the Joker had a pyre in the square in front of the City Hall, though neither Harley nor Pamela had appeared to watch. 

Damian hated to see these men appear honored next to his father, even though he understood why. 

“The old order is dead,” Helena said. “Long live the new order,” and Damian watched as Dick shuddered all over.

As the pyres turned to cinders and ashes, he murmured something to Tim and slipped away from the City Hall, heading in what he hoped was the right direction.

He found Edward sitting with his knees pulled up against his chest and Jonathan burning in front of him. This pyre was tiny, barely enough wood scrapped together. 

“Seems fitting, everyone would go out the same, doesn't it?” Edward asked, not looking up. 

“In some ways,” Damian allowed, sitting down beside him.

“You know,” Edward said after a beat. “We didn't even like each other at first. We came in to the Warlord's service about the same time, pretty junior but with enough potential to keep going. I liked riddles, hell, I loved riddles. Got me beat up but it amused the Joker and he took me half under his wing. I hated that fucker though. His jokes weren't funny or clever.” Edward shook his head again. “Jonathan liked fear. He was this scrawny kid but he talked about the power of fear all the time. It made me want to punch him. And he hated my riddles.”

Damian watched him silently, unsure when it came that he was willing to listen to this, but not moving away. 

“But then, Bruce Wayne happened. Your dad—I could never explain exactly what your dad was. We thought we were all going to die but he just... let us be. Technically the whole system stayed more or less in place, it just downgraded a few levels on the power we had. Technically, we were being stopped, though it was meaningless when it came to Waylon or the Joker or Dent. They kept doing their thing.” 

Edward turned his head on his arms, looking away from the pyre. “But we... we were small fries. We were the new kids on the block, with no power and suddenly no future. We were all around fucked. And we still hated each other but we at least could... figure it out together. We weren't big or mean we were just kids who had talents and at least it meant we weren't alone to face down the old timers or Wayne.”

He sighed and Damian hesitated, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “After a while you start to care about people, whether you want to or not.”

“I know,” Damian said and thought about the early days, when he tried to kill Tim for daring to be taken in by his father, and Dick for being the most obvious target as the oldest and strongest of them. And now how he couldn't live without either of them. 

“Yeah,” Edward said and they watched the fire burn down together.

-0-

“So what are you going to do?” Helena asked, when dawn was in the sky and Dick still hadn't been to bed. 

“We'll have to rebuild Gotham,” he said. 

“That could mean a thousand things, Grayson,” she said. “And you did make some promises to even get this far.”

“I know,” Dick said. “The first order will be to honor them.”

“Yeah?” Helena asked and Dick finally looked over at her. 

“You've kept your corner of Gotham well,” he said. “I'm not talking about splitting up the city between factions. I'm not even saying I approve of your methods all in all. But,” he paused. “We can see if we can reach a compromise. If we can work together.”

She blinked at him before smiling. “Grayson, I'm pretty sure all of Gotham is going to insist on you leading them and I for one agree. It's not just the whole continuity thing either. It's the fact that my people like me but far more of the city loves you.”

Dick winced but nodded. 

“I will happily accept a second or third hand position though,” she said.

“Third?” Dick asked.

“I'm not fighting the Wayne spawn for it,” Helena deadpanned and Dick almost laughed. But even that couldn't force it's way through the heavy layer of pain. “But I expect a certain position, let's say, if you're serious about changing Gotham.”

“I am,” Dick said. “I want Gotham to actually be what it should be. What everyone already thinks it is.”

Helena frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Dick said and paused. He looked out over the desert and thought about Kaldur's angry eyes, Roy's boisterous smile and Mia's quiet but lethal rage. About the threads of tiny affection that linked Ollie and Dinah across the desert and in hope for a better world, and Lian who he had only heard of and never met. “Gotham threw off the Warlords, though we never recovered from it. But now Clark is heading to Metropolis. He has a story and is the successor of Luthor under the ways of the Warlords. Metropolis could be changing too. In all these cities, linked through history and trade, the Warlords have considered Gotham dangerous. There are rebellions out there, using our name. Maybe it's time we started to help them.”

Helena blinked at him. “I'm sorry, are you talking about turning Gotham into a haven for rebellion.”

“To everyone else, they already think it is,” Dick shrugged. “Mostly I just think it's time we came out of our isolation.”

“You're never gonna be able to save the whole world,” Helena said. “There's a reason Warlords came to power. There aren't the resources or the population we once had. The rule of strength is there for a reason.”

“I know,” Dick said. “But there's no reason we can't start making changes. Gotham could become something better, and maybe in time, we can genuinely start rebuilding.”

Helena laughed, shaking her head. “Holy fuck, you actually are an optimist. Thought Wayne would have beaten that out of you or something.”

Dick managed a smile, though it hurt. “No. I think it meant too much to him.”

“And even after everything?” Helena asked. “After all that's been done to you, that's happened here, you're still?”

“Yeah,” he said and there was respect kindled in her eyes. 

-0-

Later he crawled into his bed, wrapping the blanket that Alfred had made him around his shoulders and let the darkness sink down around him. 

He closed his eyes and reached out to where Jason had breathed beside him for days upon days and now there was only silence. 

Until his keening cry, not quite a scream, broke the silence around him.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly crying dear readers what a journey this fic turned out to be. Ate 6 months of my life. 
> 
> This is the longest thing I've ever written on my own and just thank you to all my readers who stuck around with me.
> 
> You might also notice I've tacked on a series here. I certainly don't think this is the last time I'll touch this verse. I have a few ideas for side stories and such, and an AU of my own AU I've been dying to write for this story since Atlantis. (Honestly if there's something you really want to see feel free to throw out a request tho no promises but I'll take those into consideration for sure)
> 
> "Various Storms and Saints" and "Long & Lost" by Florence & the Machine are the songs I leave you with.

Gotham continued to inch along, its crumbling ruins no better supported for everything that had happened. Change came slowly, in the ways that Tim and Damian looked at each other now, and Stephanie curled up against Cassandra's side at night, smiling by her side. In the ways that Waylon with only one leg prowled around the edges of the city, keeping the desert and the forest out. In the way Edward started to riddle again, driving everyone except Damian around him mad. 

Change came in the first parcel from Metropolis, a letter from Clark detailing his ascension and a packet of seeds. 

Dick considered the seeds as they fell into his hand, turning the wax paper over a few times before picking up his ear piece and heading out the door. He waved up to Helena and Barbara from where they sat on the roof, talking, and they waved back. 

He weaved his way through the city, greeted now by the various inhabitants of the city. A few months ago, he would have seen only surly looks and silence with tiny pockets of acknowledgment.

It eased the ache in his chest slightly. He hoped that in enough days it might finally ease enough for him to breath easy.

He knocked on the door of the shelter off the side of the city, shadowed in some taller buildings. After a long time, Harley pulled the door open, blinking at him. “I don't think either of us wants to see you.”

“I would like to speak to Pamela, please,” Dick said, the seeds burning a hole in his pocket. 

Harley frowned at him before she nodded. She was subdued compared to what she once was, but to be fair, Dick thought, so was most of the city. 

After a scuffling sound Pamela pushed the door further open. “What do you want, Grayson?” she snapped, her eyes dark. 

Dick stared at her, the reality that she had once kidnapped him and left him in the desert to die stretching between them. “You didn't do a very good job,” he said and she winced.

“I was wondering when you were going to come and blame me for letting the Joker get out of my sight,” she said.

“Actually, I'm not really all that interested in blaming you,” Dick said, tone mild. “I'd have to end up blaming a lot of people then, and hating you, and I'd rather just skip that whole thing. I'm sure you tried to follow your orders to the extent it aligned with what you actually wanted.”

Neither of them said they knew exactly what Pamela had wanted and that was protecting Harley. 

“Then why are you here?” 

“I have something,” Dick said. “I'm not very good at, well, growing things,” and he shrugged, before fishing out the packet of seeds. “But I thought you might be able to do something with them.”

Pamela's eyes lit up and she reached out, before hesitating just as her fingers brushed the packet. “There's a catch.”

“What catch could there be?” Dick asked, honestly curious. “Bruce is dead, the Joker is dead, hell, even Cobblepot is dead. Waylon's missing a leg. Metropolis is our ally now. Everything in this city has changed. It's time to move on.”

“Moving on isn't that easy,” Pamela said. 

“No,” Dick agreed and turned her hand over to drop the seeds in her palm. She curled her fingers around the packet and pressed that hand to her chest, like he might still try and take them away again. “Bring some green to Gotham. That's all.”

He turned and walked away and she said nothing to call him back.

-0-

Several months later, Helana caught him on the ear piece when he was doing an abbreviated patrol around the edges of Gotham. She told him an interesting group was seen coming in from the desert but had no further details. Dick instantly changed his path to intercept them. 

Dropping off the edge of the lowest fire escape he froze.

“Slade,” he said, spine tightening and hating the little thrill in his stomach when the older man smiled at him, a shockingly warm expression. 

“Grayson,” he greeted. “You look better than last time I saw you.”

“How shocking,” Dick said dryly. 

Slade laughed and Dick spared a quick glance for his companions before focusing on him again. “Still got that fire. That's good, considering what's been heard about Gotham lately.”

“Are you so certain you should even be in this city?” Dick asked. “Won't it tarnish your reputation?”

“Like anyone would really know or care,” Slade shrugged and Dick frowned, certainly only half of that statement was true. 

“Why did you come, Slade?” Dick asked.

“Aren't you going to show me around your city at all?”

Dick opened his mouth, about to protest that it wasn't his city before he clicked his jaw shut on the words. “There's not much to see.”

“Indulge me,” Slade said, still smiling and Dick grit his teeth and did exactly that. Slade gave murmured instructions to his companions to meet him later and gave unerringly accurate instructions to where the City Hall was. 

“Introduce yourselves to Helena, Barbara, or Tim,” Dick added. “Say I sent you.”

When they left he stared at Slade for a long time, starting to resent the smile he was being given in turn. “Will you tell me what you really want yet?”

“You make it sound like you don't trust me at all.”

“I don't,” Dick said shortly and Slade laughed again.

“Honestly, Grayson. I want to see this city of yours.” 

Biting his lip, Dick shrugged and turned around, trusting Slade to follow him. Most of the tour was given in silence, except for a few comments from Slade and short answers from Dick. 

“It is honestly killing you, isn't it?” Slade asked and Dick whirled on him. 

“I just want to know what you expect from me,” Dick said. “Because while I may feel obligated to you, for my life and Jason's, the city is not a part of that.”

“Ah,” Slade smirked. “You think considering your new position, I'll ask something of the city from you, and you're quite determined to sacrifice yourself to any of my whims before that happens, aren't you?”

“Yes,” Dick said, not sure what denying that would gain him. 

“Where is Jason anyway?” Slade asked and Dick winced. “Ah, it's like that is it?”

“Like what?” Dick snapped. “He left. That's all.”

Slade arched his brows at him. “That's all? Huh.” 

“You still haven't answered me,” Dick said, tenser and tenser by the moment.

Slade stepped forward, tracing his fingers along the line of Dick's cheek and down his jaw line, leaving tiny flashes of desire in his wake. Dick swallowed hard. “Ah,” Slade murmured. “Still so tempting. If I thought for a second you would agree to run away with me I'd get down on my knees to ask it of you.”

“You're in a position where you could demand it,” Dick said, his eyes drifting away. 

“No,” Slade said and dropped his hand. “Because you would hate it. Besides, you've been good for this city.”

“I don't understand why a man who works for the Warlords would want that,” Dick said, bringing his eyes back around to meet Slade's. 

“You are going to repay your debt to me by protecting people I care about,” Slade said his gaze deadly serious.

Dick stared at him, floored. “What?”

-0-

Slade led him back to the City Hall, where his companions were sitting on the stairs, Damian glaring at them and Helena making small talk about guns and knives with the girl. 

They had both taken off the cloaks they had worn in to the city and Dick was shocked at how young they both seemed, though intellectually he knew the boy must have only been a handful of years younger than himself. 

“Joey,” Slade said, “Rose,” and both of them turned to look at him. Dick was aware his jaw was hanging open but he had no idea how to close it again. Slade looked at him with a quieter smirk than usual. “Dick, these are my children.”

“Oh,” Dick managed. “But—” 

“You can't really be talking about leaving us here, can you?” Rose demanded.

“I can and I will,” Slade snapped and turned back to Dick. 

“But you work for the Warlords,” Dick said. “You support them.”

“Doesn't mean I can't be a selfish bastard and want a better life for my children,” Slade said. “This city, and you yourself can offer them something else.”

“He doesn't look like much,” Rose muttered. 

“That boy has survived countless things that have tried to kill him,” Slade returned, and the blond, curly haired boy was smiling happily at Dick. Dick hesitantly returned the expression.

“Where have they lived before this?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” Slade shrugged. 

“Gotham still isn't the safest place,” Dick started. 

“Compared to where it was?” Slade asked and Dick shrugged. “You remember what Atlantis is like, don't you?” 

Dick shuddered, because some nights he still woke up clutching at his throat and feeling the ghost of the heavy collar there. “Yes,” he whispered. 

“Keep them safe,” Slade said, quiet and vicious. “Train them and protect them. You owe me, don't you?”

“Thrice over,” Dick whispered. 

“Do this for me,” Slade repeated, holding his eyes. His heavy and warm fingers came up again, brushing over Dick's face. “And if you ever decide, later, you are finally done with Gotham, I'd be glad of you as a companion.”

“I wouldn't hold your breath,” Dick said, swallowing heavily. 

-0-

Gotham inched along and the seasons changed. Pamela had rigged up some sort of greenhouse and Dick caught Stephanie and Cassandra twined together on the training mats. 

Damian and Rose fought like alley cats, and Joey had attached himself to Dick's side like a silent ghost. Dick had been learning a hand language from him, as there was a long gash over his throat that had destroyed his voice. 

Dick was fairly certain it was a warrior's code, designed for communication on the battlefield, but it was the only way Joey had to make himself understood so Dick didn't dwell on it. 

The pain hadn't eased and more often than not in the hot months he slept on the roof of the city hall where he could still see the stars. Except each morning he woke up in the outdoor air and reached for Jason. 

By the time the weather turned cold again he had finally stopped. 

He forced himself to sleep inside again, like he had not long term since his time out in the desert. The darkness that had never bothered him before felt oppressive and lonely without anyone else breathing with him. 

Sometimes Damian still crawled into his bed, but it was rare now that he had moved what meager things he owned into Tims' room and declared it loudly to everyone, his jaw jutted out. 

Dick thought he might have finally stared to heal but he was fairly sure he was lying to himself. At least Gotham, and more so Joey and Rose Wilson provided quite the distraction.

Until in the first days of fall he was sitting on one of the roofs at the edge of the city and heard a bike approaching from the desert. For a long moment he froze, watching it approach with his heart in his throat, certain it could not be Jason's bike. By the time he recognized Jason, he had almost convinced himself. 

Scrambling to his feet, he was standing in the center of the street when Jason finally entered the city, coming to a stop in front of him. “So you did steal someone else's bike,” Dick said, arms crossed over his chest and voice flat. 

“Yeah,” Jason said. “Except that one broke down and I had to steal another one again.”

His face fell as he looked at Dick. He wet his lips and fell silent again. 

“Why'd you finally come back?” Dick asked finally, having thought of a dozen other things to say and discarding them. 

“Connor Hawke yelled at me,” Jason said. 

“Charming,” Dick drawled, feeling his stomach shrivel up at the answer. 

Jason shifted, finally dismounting from the bike and standing facing Dick with nothing between them. “That was the last straw, not the only one. I mean, Roy hit me and Mia lectured me and fuck, those things were nothing on my own demons.”

“I know you said you would try,” Dick said, the words ashes in his mouth. “And I know it wasn't easy—”

“But it didn't seem like I tried very hard, did it?” Jason asked quietly. 

“No,” Dick said bitterly. “It did not.” He could feel his breath catch and had to swallow down the anger and bile. 

Jason shifted and looked at his hands before forcing himself to look at Dick again. “I missed you like someone was stabbing me.”

“It's been months!” Dick yelled, unable to hold it back any more. “You can't just leave and say that and expect that I'll what, throw myself back in your arms? Bruce died and you left, you didn't even say—”

“Dick,” Jason said, voice breaking and Dick buried his face in his hands, swallowing the tears back desperately. 

There was a moment where he just stood there, wrapped in his own misery before he felt Jason's arms come up around him, cradling his shaking form to his chest. “I don't deserve you,” Jason said and Dick, somehow, still found it in him to make a protesting noise. “I fuck up. I fucked up. I'm not right in the head, I don't know what I can promise you.” 

“Promise if you have to leave again you'll come back,” Dick gasped into his shoulder, digging his fingers into Jason's back hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck, I don't know if I can do even that,” Jason said. “It's going to take me a while... to find my feet.” 

“I needed you,” Dick whispered. 

“I know,” Jason said. “I know, I'm awful. I'm so—”

“You're here right now,” Dick said. “I'm going to learn to live with that because I want to live with you.” 

“Jesus,” Jason laughed into his hair. “When you say things like that I can almost imagine we can make it work.”

“I slept on the roof for months,” Dick hissed and Jason seemed to understand that, dipping his head down so his cheek rested against Dick's hair, which had grown out shaggy and dark finally. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he said and Dick finally let himself relax into his solid warmth. 

“I once said trying was going to be enough for me,” Dick said. “I was wrong, in the long term there. But, god, please try again. Just try for me again—”

“Yeah,” Jason said, a quiet promise and when Dick looked up he covered his mouth, a slow and deep kiss that spoke of the vast expanses of the desert and lonely nights and desperate longing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally I also just started a Batman Star Wars au which I feel may be my next monster fic. If anyone's interested


End file.
